Hair Dye
by 1-800fangirl
Summary: Aunt May is on a cruise, leaving the one and only Tony Stark to deal with Peter Parker for an entire month. Of course shenanigans are going to ensue. (A compilation of Iron Dad and Spider Son oneshots; see inside for more details and individual oneshot summaries.)
1. Hair Dye

**Anyone who keeps up with my writing is probably thinking "wtf are you doing posting** _another_ **story." That is a completely valid concern. However, I realized that whenever I get stuck during chapters for the stories that I** _should_ **be updating, writing a oneshot for another fandom helps me loosen up and get back into the swing of things. Hence what this fanfic is going to be.**

 **The way I've planned this is simple: whenever I'm in a rut (which happens far too often), I'll find a prompt and write an Iron Dad and Spider Son oneshot inspired by it. I highly encourage you all to leave prompts/ideas for me! Updates for this story will be rather sporadic, which makes sense because writer's block is not predictable.**

 **As I said - it's not terribly complicated. I appreciate your understanding, and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Note:** Timelines will probably end up being rather irrelevant throughout the course of these many oneshots because they're not important to my purpose of easing writer's block, so keep this in mind for future updates.

 **Summary:** _Upon finding out that Peter has a hair appointment in Queens, Tony decides to take the Spiderling there himself. He likes hanging out with the kid, plus he always enjoys taking a break from work. Throw in Thai food, red hair dye, ice cream, and nosy reporters, Tony somehow ends up having more fun than he could have ever expected._

xXxXxXx

"You need me to take you to a what now?"

Peter groaned, the frustration in his voice not lost on Tony. "A hair appointment, Mr. Stark. And _you_ don't have to take me, sir. I just need you to…" He trailed off. "Well, provide transportation."

While Tony was almost certain he had one or two or ten self-driving cars stowed away somewhere, he didn't see the point of the kid going all the way to Queens to get his hair done. "Pete, I can call up someone in half a second to do your hair. I have at least four stylists on speed dial." He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "That would be easier, plus -"

"But Mr. Stark, I really like my hairdresser," Peter interrupted, pouting in a way only he could. "Besides, May was the one who set up the appointment. She's expecting me to go and get my hair done in a certain way. _You're_ going to be the one who faces her wrath if whatever hairdressers you have mess my hair up."

Tony winced. The thought of an enraged Aunt May was never a pleasant one, and was only worsened by the fact that the anger would be directed at him. He was still wondering why the hell she'd entrusted Peter to stay with him while she was away on some cruise, but the implication was that he'd been an extremely last-minute option. Nonetheless, he liked the kid and was fine with having him stay in the tower for a month or so. "Alright, fine. I'll have Happy take you there. I already know the address, but when is the appointment?"

"Mr. Stark, Happy doesn't have to waste his time taking me there," Peter insisted. "I can go on my own."

"Kid, you're not walking back to Queens, and you're too young to drive." Tony put his phone away. "But if you don't want Happy to bring you, that's fine. I'll do it. I'm sure Happy won't mind."

Peter's face turned a brilliant shade of crimson, and Tony had to wonder what was up with this hair appointment. "Mr. Stark, you don't have to -"

"Of course I don't have to," Tony scoffed. "But I'm going to. Deal with it, Underoos." He ran a hand through his hair. "Who knows - maybe I'll also get my hair done while we're there. Pepper's been complaining about the length lately."

Peter buried his head in his hands. "Ugh. Mr. Stark, you're the worst."

"Oh really?" Tony crossed his arms and stared Peter down. "Pete, is there something I should know about this hair appointment? You shaving your head or something? Getting a funky buzzcut?"

"Shaving my head?" Tony almost laughed as Peter's nose wrinkled in disgust. "No way, Mr. Stark."

Tony shrugged. "Alright then. So I'll be taking you. Time?"

Peter sighed but said with reluctance, "2:15."

"I assume it'll only take thirty or so minutes," Tony mused, "so I should still be able to attend the meeting Pepper's been bugging me about -"

"Actually, Mr. Stark," Peter interrupted, not making eye contact with him, "it's probably going to last longer than thirty minutes."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "How much longer?"

Peter seemed to wince before saying, "Maybe two or three hours?"

"Two or three hours?!" Tony sputtered. "What are they _doing_ to your hair?!"

"Not two hours of them doing my hair!" Peter hastily amended. "I just mean that, um, the wait can be really long, even when you reserve an appointment ahead of time."

Tony sighed. The kid was very obviously lying to him, but he knew that pushing the matter would do him no good. At least, not now, anyways. Tony Stark may have been a technological genius, but dealing with people? Particularly teenagers? God help him. "Sure, Pete. Hey FRIDAY?"

"Yes, sir?" The female AI's voice seemed to echo in the room.

"Clear my plans for tomorrow. Tell Pepper to reschedule the conference." Tony winced. "She is definitely going to kill me."

"Affirmative, sir. What reason should I give her?"

"Something came up with the kid." He laughed. "You know, that's probably the best excuse I've ever given her for missing a meeting."

Peter frowned, seemingly disgruntled that he was Tony's 'get out of jail free' card. "Mr. Stark, is Ms. Potts going to be angry that I'm the cause of you _not_ attending a meeting? Because if she is, then there's no way you're taking me to the appointment if it means you'll miss important stuff."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. She knows it's not your fault. Besides, while Pepper would never admit, conferences rarely involve topics of actual importance. They're just a front for everyone to pretend that their businesses are running perfectly fine." He smirked at Peter. "Kid, this guy had better be one hell of a hairdresser. I need to impress Pepper with a hot new look so she'll be less angry at _me_."

"You're actually going to get your hair done, too?" Peter said in disbelief. "Really, Mr. Stark?"

Tony shrugged. "Why not? Maybe I'll have them style it like yours. That way we both look like Prince Charming."

Peter groaned. "I do not look like Prince Charming."

"Keep telling yourself that, Spiderling."

"FRIDAY, do I really look like Prince Charming?" Peter demanded.

"I'm afraid there is some resemblance, Peter," was the AI's response.

Tony burst out laughing as Peter's jaw dropped. "I told you so."

"Yeah, well, I bet she's only agreeing with you because you created her," Peter grumbled. "Programming bias."

Tony shook his head, still laughing as he clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Come on, kid. Let's go down to the lab. There a few upgrades to your suit I want to go over with you before they're fully installed."

He was pleased to note that Peter's eyes lit up instantaneously. "Awesome!"

xXxXxXx

"Hurry up, Pete!" Tony called, glancing at his watch. "If you want to have time to get lunch before your hair appointment we have to leave _now_." Upon not hearing a response for the third time in a row, he sighed. "FRIDAY, what's the kid doing?"

"He is currently in his room, sir," FRIDAY replied. "He appears to be looking for something."

Tony sighed. "Of course he is."

"You can't complain sir." Tony knew that if FRIDAY could smirk, she would have. "You're not exactly the most timely person, either. Ms. Potts has requested me to keep track of the numerous times _you_ were late or waited until the last minute to accomplish something; shall I pull the list up for you?"

Tony winced. "Ah, no thanks." He glanced at his watch a second time. "Has the kid found whatever he was looking for yet?"

"No sir. I have offered to assist him in his search, but he has refused. Would you like me to contact him for you?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

A screen was projected in front of Tony, showing him the inside of Peter's room. He cleared his throat, and Peter jumped before turning around. "You ready, kid?"

Peter was gawking at him, and Tony wondered if this was the first time he'd seen the hologram-type system set up throughout the tower. "Uh, almost," he finally stuttered. "I'm just trying to find something real quick."

"And what is that 'something,' Pete?" Tony sighed. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." He paused before adding, "Actually, with your enhanced metabolism, you probably _are_ hungry. So if you aren't in _desperate_ need of whatever you're trying to find, I say leave it and get it later."

"If you were to inform me of what you are searching for, Peter, perhaps I could be of assistance," FRIDAY offered.

"No, it's okay," Peter muttered. "I can find it."

"Why not let FRIDAY help?" Tony asked. He was always having FRIDAY help him find things he misplaced, and before her JARVIS had done the same. "It'll take her less than ten seconds to scan the entire tower, Pete."

Peter didn't answer, instead continuing to go through his drawers.

Tony sighed, waving his hand and the hologram of Peter's room disappeared. "Guess that means _I_ get to go play helper." He climbed into the elevator, pressing the button for Peter's floor, glancing at his watch as the doors closed.

Tony often wondered at what point in his life Peter Parker had joined the very short list of people he couldn't live without. A scary thought, what with the kid being someone who seemed to enjoy throwing his life on the line whenever he got the chance.

Then again, when he'd confessed this to Pepper, she'd crossed her arms and said, "That's how it feels, Tony."

No matter what, he didn't regret it. As awful as his fight with Steve had been, one good thing had come out of the ordeal: meeting Peter. Not that he'd tell that to the kid, of course. God forbid the legendary Tony Stark show emotion to anyone.

The elevator dinged as it reached the correct floor, Tony stepping out the moment the doors slid open. He crossed through the hall to Peter's room, not bothering to knock before going in. "If you won't let FRIDAY help you search, will my assistance perhaps suffice?"

Peter spun on his heel. "M-Mr. Stark!" He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Sir, I'm sorry I'm taking so long, I could have sworn I left it in here -!"

"Whoa, slow it down, kid," Tony interrupted. "It's fine. Tell me what you're looking for and I'll help you find it. Okay?"

Peter sighed. There was a pause that seemed to stretch for an hour before he muttered, "My wallet. I'm looking for my wallet."

"Your wallet?" Tony repeated. "What do you need your wallet for?"

"You know," Peter mumbled. "So I can like, pay for my stuff. That way you don't have to."

"Kid, is this about money?" Tony asked, unsure of the message Peter was trying to get across. "I have an infinite supply of it. I can pay for whatever you need."

"Yeah," Peter admitted. "But you shouldn't have to! You're already taking time out of your day to drive me all the way to Queens even though it'll make Pepper angry, so it's only fair that I pay for my lunch and the appointment. Plus, I've been saving up for this, so -"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there," Tony interrupted. "I understand what you're saying, and here's my solution: I pay for everything upfront so we can leave now. Cool? Cool."

Peter opened and closed his mouth in a manner very similar to that of a goldfish. "But Mr. Stark -"

"I don't want to hear it. If you really insist on paying me back…" Tony shrugged. "We'll deal with that later, when we're done with everything. But for now, don't worry about it."

Peter sighed. "Fine."

"Perfect!" Tony clapped his hands together. "Let's go." He steered Peter out of the bedroom and into the elevator, clicking the button that would take them down to the garage. "So," he said, a grin dancing on his lips. "Anywhere you'd like to eat in particular, kid?"

xXxXxXx

"Prachya Thai?" Tony glanced over the dismal-looking restaurant, the fact that it was next to 'Cash for Gold' not exactly improving it's already pitiful first impression. "Are you sure?"

Peter nodded. "May and I eat here all the time. The food's delicious."

Tony shrugged, adjusting his sunglasses. "Well, if it's good enough for your unusually attractive aunt, then it's good enough for me, I suppose." He laughed when Peter glared at him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Let's go in."

The place was relatively empty, which Tony didn't mind; that meant he and Peter were less likely to be swarmed by paparazzi or reporters. Pepper was going to kill him when he got back simply for taking the risk of going out in public with Peter. To be fair, she did have a point - which she always did - that it _would_ be very hard to explain why he was treating his intern to lunch.

But did he ever listen to her?

Yeah, not as much as he probably should.

A bored-looking waitress directed them to a table in the corner of the restaurant, conveniently out of the public eye. She tossed two menus on the table while they sat down before getting out a small notebook and a pen.

"Hi, my name is Allison and I'm going to be your waitress for today," she said, a Southern drawl faintly noticeable in her voice. "What would you like to drink?"

"Water is fine," Tony replied before glancing at Peter. "No caffeine, kid."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'll have water, too."

"Two waters," the waitress repeated. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Use the time to look over your food options while you wait."

Tony focused on the menu in front on him. "FRIDAY, give me some recommendations," he said.

"According to my searches, some of the popular options for 'first timers' of Thai cuisine are pad thai, khao pad, and tom yum goong," FRIDAY replied, various images flashing over his glasses as she spoke. "Pad thai is fried noodles, khao pad is fried rice, and tom yum goong is spicy shrimp soup."

"Mr. Stark, you've never had Thai food before?" Peter asked, his head quirked at a slight angle, like a confused puppy. "But it's the best!"

"I guess I never got around to it. Thailand is one of a few countries I haven't travelled to. Yet." Tony placed his menu down. "Tell you what, kid: you decide what I should order. I trust your judgement."

"Are you sure? What if you don't like what I get?"

Tony shrugged. "So what? At least then I'll know not to get it next time." He hadn't meant for the words 'next time' to slip out, but when he saw the way Peter's eyes lit up, he had a gut feeling that there was indeed going to be a 'next time.' "Besides, you said it yourself that you and May eat here all the time. You're probably an expert on the best food by now."

The waitress returned, a glass of water in each hand. "Here you go." She placed them down on the table before tossing straws beside them. "Have you decided what you'd like to order?" she said, turning towards Tony.

He gestured towards Peter in response. "The kid knows what I want."

"Right," Peter said, hastily scanning the menu. "Uh… Could we get an order of gaeng daeng and two orders of pad thai, please?"

"One gaeng daeng and two pad thai," the waitress repeated, jotting the information down on her notepad. "I'll be right back." She took the menus and returned to the back of the restaurant.

"What's gaeng daeng, exactly?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised. "Not poisonous, I hope."

"You know, Mr. Stark, if it was poisonous, I get the feeling they wouldn't be serving it. Correct me if I'm wrong - which I'm not - but I do believe it's illegal to sell poisonous or contaminated foods."

Tony placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be shocked. "Mr. Parker. Did you just _sass_ me?"

Peter snickered. "And? Is that a problem?"

Tony shook his head, amused. "Pepper warned me that 'Stark snark' was contagious. Apparently you've spent so much time around me you've caught it."

"Yeah, and it's gotten me into a lot of trouble with May," he admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"What, the attitude or spending time with me?" Tony said, sipping his water.

"Probably both." Peter laughed. "But I don't think she really minds it. She's just being protective, as always. It's both irritating and endearing." He shrugged. "Guess that's what it means to be a teenager."

Tony nodded, unsure of how to respond. Instead he decided to change the topic. "Remind me again of what gaeng daeng is?"

"Oh, right. It's red curry."

"Specifics, kid. What does red curry include?"

"I'm pretty sure it has some kind of meat in it," Peter said. "Also the red curry paste, coconut milk, and kaffir lime leaves or something."

"Huh," Tony mused. "Interesting."

"It tastes better than it sounds," Peter said, evidently trying to sound reassuring. "I've only had it a few times in my life, and none of those times have been recent, but…" He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. "Someone I knew used to get it all the time, and it was his favorite. May loved it, too, but she doesn't eat it anymore."

Tony didn't miss Peter's hesitation, nor did he miss the way the kid's gaze fell to the table, but decided it was not his place to comment. Besides - he was almost certain of who it was that used to get gaeng daeng. "I guess we'll find out then. I'm trusting you not to destroy my taste buds, Pete."

Peter laughed, much to Tony's relief. "Don't worry, Mr. Stark. I would _never_ do that."

"Sure, sure," Tony said, taking a sip of his water. "Of course you wouldn't." He glanced at his watch, pleased to see that they were still on schedule. "Looks like we'll have plenty of time to get to our appointment."

Peter almost choked on his water, thankfully coughing into his elbow instead of spewing spit everywhere.

"Whoa, kid," Tony said, instinctively reaching across the table to help him. "Careful." He handed him a napkin and used his own to clean up some of what had spilled from the glass. "You okay there?"

Peter coughed a moment longer before clearing his throat. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He glanced up at him. "Mr. Stark, did you say _our_ appointment?"

Tony smirked. "Why, is it a problem if I get my hair done, too?"

Peter buried his head in his hands. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You know I never kid, Pete."

"That's a lie."

"Not a lie. I was only kidding."

Peter glared at him, and Tony had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. The kid looked like an angry puppy - trying and failing to be intimidating. "Mr. Stark, why are you getting your hair done today with me?"

"Well, what else am I going to do while I wait?" Tony said. "Paperwork? Like a responsible adult? Not a chance. I made a few calls and they've agreed to squeeze me in." He grinned at Peter. "You embarrassed to get your hair done while I'm there or something?"

"Since you've asked - yes, I am a bit embarrassed to get my hair done with _the_ Tony Stark there as a witness." Peter absentmindedly flicked at a hangnail. "You're a billionaire and probably one of the smartest people in the universe, and I'm just…" The corners of his mouth twitched downward. "Your intern."

"If it's any consolation, you're my favorite intern," Tony offered.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Mr. Stark, I'm your _only_ intern."

Tony chuckled. "And therefore my favorite by default." He clasped his hands together, unsure of how to phrase his next words at the risk of sounding overly emotional or, in contrast, completely void of emotion. "Pete, you're not 'just my intern.' Unless it's a reporter asking you, because then for your sake that's all you are." He adjusted his sunglasses, sighing. "Kid, I'm not even sure what you are anymore, but I do know that you're smart - almost as smart as me - and that I can and would trust you with my life. That's more than what can be said for pretty much anyone else I know. Don't downgrade yourself, okay?"

Relief flooded through Tony's body when Peter smiled at him. "Okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you."

"I'm just telling the truth, kid."

The waitress then returned to the table, a platter with three bowls on it in hand. "Enjoy," she said flatly, placing them down on the table before tossing two sets of utensils wrapped in napkins next to them. "I'll be back later to give you the check." She walked away, already pulling her phone out of her pocket and tapping away at the screen.

"Are all the servers here so monotonous?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised as he watched the girl leave. "Or is it just her?"

Peter shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure you've noticed that it's not exactly the most lively of places. But normally May and I always get the same server when we come here. A guy named Anurak or something."

"Really?"

"Yup." Peter rolled his eyes. "He only serves us because he likes flirting with May. Giving her free food and stuff."

"Well, I can't blame him," Tony said, smirking. He laughed as Peter crumpled up his napkin and threw it across the table. "Manners, Underoos. We're in public." Before Peter could fire back with a witty retort, Tony quickly took a bite of the food in front of him. "Wow," he said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. "This is fantastic."

"Told you so."

Silence fell between them as the two focused on their meals, Tony asking Peter a question every now and then regarding the food. At one point he even tried to steal a bite of the kid's pad thai, but Peter's reflexes were faster than his by a hundredfold. The spidey sense probably helped, too.

After taking the last bite of the gaeng daeng, Tony sipped his water to ease the flavor away. Peter had long since finished finished his first bowl of pad thai and was nearly done with the second, so he decided to seize the opportunity to question the kid about the hair appointment.

"So, how exactly are you getting your hair done today, Pete?" Tony adjusted his sunglasses, lacing his fingers together as he leaned back in his seat. "I know you were lying to me last night about the 'wait time.' Hell, even if I hadn't figured it out then, when I called the place today they were happy to inform me that they had several openings for the time slot I needed. So what kinda style are you getting that's going to take two or three hours?"

Peter took the last bite of his pad thai before saying, "Would you believe me if I told you it's just a wash, cut, and dry?"

"Pete…"

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you the truth, but on one condition."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Alright, fine. What's your condition?"

"You're not allowed to laugh. Because you're going to want to."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's you, Mr. Stark."

"Okay, good point." Tony held his hands up in surrender. "I promise not to laugh. There. I said it." He could have sworn he heard the kid mumble something about a blood pact 'to be sure,' but didn't have a chance to ask about it as Peter started speaking again.

"I'm dyeing my hair."

Tony froze. Of all the answers he'd been expecting, _that_ was not one of them. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Peter stared steadfast at his glass of water. "I'm dyeing my hair, Mr. Stark."

Tony gaped at the kid. "Like, your entire head? Did May give you permission to do this? What color are you even dyeing it?"

Peter appeared amused by his rapid-fire questions. "No, not my entire head, Mr. Stark. Yes, May gave me permission to do this. And it's gonna be red, like your Iro… Like my Spider-Man suit."

Tony sighed, Peter's slip-up going in one ear and out the other as he tried to comprehend the fact that in a short time the kid was going to be a redhead. "Dyeing hair marks the first stage of teenage rebellion. I don't know how I'm going to deal with this. Pepper's going to have to help me through it or something."

Peter laughed. "Mr. Stark, I'm not entering a rebellious stage. I just thought it'd be cool to mix things up a bit! Plus, May showed me old pictures of her with crazy hair colors, and I want to have photos of myself like that one day."

Tony leaned back into his seat, shaking his head. "Fire-engine red, huh?" FRIDAY had pulled up images of various shades of red hair and was showing them to him via projecting from his sunglasses onto the table to allow Peter to see as well. "That's gonna be a hell of a look, kid." He paused, a smirk slowly creeping onto his lips. "How do you think I would look with a bit of red in my hair?"

He almost laughed when Peter's jaw dropped. "Mr. Stark, you wouldn't."

"Never tell me I wouldn't do something, because that means I almost certainly would." Tony fingered his hair. "I think I'll do the front. Or those streaks. Highlights - whatever you call them. And maybe not the hot rod red you're going for; probably a bit more natural."

Peter sighed, then smirked at the older man. "You know what, Mr. Stark? I think you dyeing your hair red is a great idea. It'll help hide all that gray."

It was as if he'd been slapped. Tony frowned at the kid. "First of all, how dare you even insinuate that I have gray hairs. Second, even if I _did_ happen to have gray hairs - which I don't -, they'd all be your fault because you're the most stressful factor in my life."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny." Then he offered the man a small smile. "I do actually think it would be pretty cool if you dyed your hair, Mr. Stark." His eyes widened, and a small gasp escaped his lips. "What if we went for matching colors?!"

Of all the reactions Tony had expected, earnesty was not one of them, much less the thought that they should _match_. He was sorely tempted to reject the idea, but when he saw the excitement dancing in Peter's eyes… God, he was getting to be such a sap. "Fine by me. But we'll need a compromise, because there's no way in hell I'm going back home to Pepper with fiery red hair."

Peter bit his lip, thinking. "Well, we could go for red that's more orange." He laughed. "You know, like Ms. Potts."

"Nope. No way." Tony sipped his water. "Not only would I never hear the end of it from Pepper and Happy, the media would have a field day."

"Mr. Stark, the media is going to have a field day no matter what, because it's _you_ dyeing your hair."

Tony paused with his drink halfway to his lips. "Damn. You're right."

"But," Peter continued, "I don't really like orange, anyways. Since you don't want a bright red, how about a darker shade?"

"Dark red?" Tony placed his glass on the table. "I can work with that."

After much debate and several images of red hair provided by FRIDAY, the two decided on a shade called 'mahogany.' Peter liked how bright it would look in the sun, Tony liked how it would blend relatively well into his dark hair.

The waitress returned to their table and handed Tony the check, with the total of '$26.71' circled on the bottom. "My manager requests that you pay in cash, because our chip reader was recently broken and the new one isn't expected to arrive until tomorrow."

"Not a problem," Tony replied smoothly, pulling out his wallet and handing the woman a crisp hundred dollar bill. "Split the change between you and the chef, will you?"

The waitress seemed frozen as she stared in shock at the amount of money that had just been placed in the palm of her hand, but finally nodded. "R-Right. Thank you, sir. And, uh, have a nice day."

Peter gave her a cheery wave before she turned around and walked away, disappearing into the back kitchen.

"Well, kid," Tony said, clapping his hands together, "as much as I've enjoyed our little luncheon, we have a hair appointment to get to." He gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"

xXxXxXx

"Cute salon," Tony murmured as he glanced around the room. There was a couch and two chairs for people to wait on, one chair for the stylist to use for the current customer, two dryers, three sinks in the back, and a set of drawers with a large mirror atop. "Small, but cute."

"It's small because it's a private salon, Mr. Stark," Peter explained. "May and the owner - her name's Minh Dupont - went to college together and managed to keep in touch after they graduated. She's really nice and gives us big discounts because…" He trailed off. "You know. Financial troubles."

Tony winced at Peter's words. He often forgot the issues the Parker family had when it came to money. He'd offered assistance many times, but no matter how inconspicuously he tried to phrase it, May had rejected him every time. "She sounds like a lovely woman. I can't wait to meet her."

As if on cue, a petite woman with dark brown hair and hot pink streaks emerged from the back of the salon, practically running over to Peter before she pulled him into a tight embrace. "It's so good to see you, em yêu! It's been a while, huh?"

Tony pushed down the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach upon seeing someone else wrap their arms around the kid, particularly with the use of a nickname to go along with it.

Peter laughed and returned the hug. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dupont. I've just been really busy lately."

Tony let out a quiet snort. Yes, the kid had definitely been busy managing school, decathlon, and his internship - all whilst being Spider-Man.

Peter pulled out of the hug and gestured towards Tony. "Ms. Dupont, this is Mr. Stark. I think he called you and made an appointment for the same time as mine or something…"

"Yes, I remember," the woman - Minh, was it? - said. "Although I wasn't expecting him to _bring_ you, Peter. Where's May?"

"She's on a cruise," Peter explained. "I'm staying with Mr. Stark while she's away."

Minh nodded. "I see." She reached out and firmly shook Tony's hand. "Well, a friend of May and Peter's is a friend of mine. My name is Minh. It's good to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Likewise," Tony said, smiling. "And call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father."

"Of course, Tony." Minh frowned. "Hmm. Tony Stark. I know that name." She snapped her fingers. "Do you host a late night talk show, by any chance?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "No, but I have been a guest on quite a few of them."

"Ah, that must be it."

Tony shot Peter a questioning look, receiving a shrug in response. Well, it was always a nice change of pace when someone didn't recognize him.

"So, what I have written down is a red dye for Peter and a wash, cut, and dry for you, Tony," Minh said, skimming over a notebook she had resting on the vanity. "Is that still accurate?"

"Actually, Peter and I would both like our hair dyed. The red we've decided on is a shade called 'mahogany.'" Tony offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about this last minute change. I'll be sure to provide compensation."

Minh waved her hand dismissively. "It's no problem! You two are my last customers for today. And you said mahogany…?" She opened a door, revealing a closet, and started rummaging through the shelves on the inside. "Aha!" She pulled a bottle with a flourish. "Last thing of mahogany. Plenty for the both of you, of course."

Tony made a mental note to send the woman several new sets of dye as thanks.

"Before I begin, I'll give a short breakdown on how this is going to work." Minh placed the bottle down on the vanity. "The first step is bleaching the hair, then a wash and trim, blow dry, then the dye will sit, and then a final rinse. Simple, but not quick. Understand?" Upon seeing them both nod, she beamed. "Wonderful. Peter, I'll start with you."

Tony found himself tuning out as Peter and Minh starting chatting away at typical conversation topics, like school and how May was doing. FRIDAY pulled up a few news stories on his sunglasses that she thought might be important, her voice low as she read them to him, but there seemed to be little of note, which was an unusual occurrence that he was always grateful for.

What did snag his attention, however, was Minh starting to wrap strips of Peter's hair in aluminum foil after putting some weird white paste on it.

Minh must have noticed his attentiveness, as she chuckled at his expression. "I'm bleaching his hair. The natural color is too dark for me to put the red on top of, so I'm simply pulling a bit of color out."

"It's perfectly safe, Mr. Stark," Peter reassured him. "Although it does mean my hair is going to be more brittle. And I'll probably have more split ends."

Tony sighed, shaking his head. "Just what I need. A teenager who sheds."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're going to shed, too. Don't complain."

Much to Peter's annoyance, Tony shook his head a second time before picking up a magazine and starting to skim through it. He had a lot of time to kill.

xXxXxXx

"Damn, Mr. Stark. We look _good_."

Tony frowned. "Watch your language, kid. Cursing is for adults only."

"I'm fifteen."

"And? What's your point?" Tony ran a hand through his newly red hair as he studied his reflection in the mirror. "But you're right. We _do_ look good."

Peter beamed at him. "This is so going on my story."

Tony watched as the kid pulled his phone out of his pocket - he was pleased to note that it was the Stark Phone they'd built together one day in the lab, albeit with a large crack running across the screen - and opened an app labelled 'Snapchat.' He vaguely recognized the name as some social media platform, but he couldn't recall much else about it. He had a press person to take care of that for him.

"Smile, Mr. Stark!"

Tony blinked in surprise and managed to put a smile on his face just as the kid's camera flashed.

"Ooh, it actually looks really good," Peter said, grinning happily as he showed the older man the photo. "You should smile more often, Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts would probably appreciate it."

"Ha ha," Tony retorted, rolling his eyes. "Very funny, Mr. Parker." Although, he had to admit that the kid was right - the photo did look nice. "Send me that picture, will ya?"

Peter seemed stunned. "Really?" he finally said. "You want it?"

"Of course I want it. Why else would I have asked?"

Peter flushed. "Right, right."

A moment later Tony's phone buzzed in his pocket. He wasted no time signing in and saving the photo before setting it as his background, smirking as he showed it to Peter. "Your Aunt Hottie's going to be jealous that we got matching hair without her. Should I break the news, or should you?"

"Mr. Stark, you can't have that as your background!" Peter sputtered.

"Why not? You said yourself that it's a good picture."

"Because. You just can't."

Based off the embarrassed look painted on Peter's face, Tony chalked up his opposition to 'having adolescence.' "Well, I'm the adult here, and I say that I can. Get used to it, kid."

Even though Peter groaned, Tony had a feeling that he didn't really mind all too much.

"I'm glad you like it," Minh said, beaming at both of them.

Tony snapped his fingers as he remembered that he had to pay the stylist. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, removing five hundred dollar bills and placing them in the woman's hands. "Keep the change, Minh."

The woman gaped at the amount of money she now possessed, but quickly recovered. "Thank you very much," she gushed. "I - I don't know what to say.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "No need to say anything. It's just a little way for me to show how much I appreciate you squeezing me in at the last minute." He winked at her. "Don't ask how I got the money - if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Minh laughed and tucked the bills into her back pocket. "Then I suppose I'll have to keep my curiosity to myself."

"Perfect." Tony glanced at his watch. It was nearly five, meaning their overlapping appointments had indeed lasted between two and three hours. That also meant there was only about ten minutes until Minh's salon closed. "How about we get going, Pete? We can stop and get ice cream before we go back home."

Peter snickered. "You're just stalling so you don't have to deal with Ms. Potts."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Are you saying you _don't_ want any ice cream?"

"No, no!" Peter hastily amended. "I do. Let's go."

Tony couldn't help but laugh as he followed the kid out the door.

xXxXxXx

Tony smiled as he watched Peter eagerly devour his three scoops of 'Stark Raving Hazelnuts,' having already finished the single scoop he'd gotten for himself. "I take it you're satisfied with the flavor, Spiderling?"

Peter beamed at him, and Tony bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the smear of ice cream across the kid's cheek. "It's the best, Mr. Stark."

Tony threw a napkin at him. "Uh huh. Now wipe your face. No intern of mine will be seen decorated with chocolate."

"I'm your only intern," Peter reminded him, but did as instructed.

"All the more reason for you to make good impressions on people," Tony retorted, though he couldn't quite wipe the smile off his face.

Peter rolled his eyes and went back to eating his ice cream, scrolling on his phone every now and then, not even an ounce of attention on the world around him.

Tony returned his focus to a document FRIDAY had pulled up on his sunglasses for him - or rather, the few sections she'd highlighted and was reading aloud to him. It was simple stuff regarding stocks in a company, and normally was something he would have passed on to Pepper had it not been for the fact that she was currently not… Pleased with him for skipping the conference.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a few people whispering and pointing in their general direction. On any other day he would have ignored it - he was Tony Stark, after all; stalkers came with the name - but today he had Peter with him. That alone complicated matters, and the fact that they now had hair with matching red streaks wasn't doing him any favors.

Tony could have sworn that one of them looked familiar, too. A blonde woman, with a permanent look of distaste in her eyes. If he had to guess… Probably a one-night stand from his 'playboy' days. But at the same time something about her implied more than someone he'd only met once. He just couldn't identify what, exactly.

He didn't have to continue contemplating, however, as she left the restaurant with two people in tow. Even so…

"FRIDAY, run facial recognition on that woman," Tony murmured. Dozens of images flashed in front of his eyes before stopping on one. "Read me the profile."

"Her name is Christine Everhart," FRIDAY said. "A reporter for Vanity Fair Magazine."

"Copy that. Explains why she kept looking over here. Do I know her?"

"Yes sir, you do. She has tried to interview you numerous times before, and you spent the night with her once."

Tony sighed. "Of course I did."

"It was her who initially prompted you to reveal your alias as Iron Man," FRIDAY continued. "At least indirectly. During the conference surrounding the events regarding Obadiah Stane."

 _That_ made it click. "Right, I remember her. Wasn't she also involved in the whole Hammer Industries fiasco, too?"

"To a certain extent, yes."

Tony bit back a groan. "In other words, Miss Everhart is one of the many people who enjoy making my life miserable."

"Excellently put, sir."

"However, that does not mean she gets to make _Peter's_ life miserable," Tony muttered. "FRIDAY, what's the date?"

"July 26th, sir."

"I need you to make today a holiday. Something catchy. An excuse to fall back on about why I'm with Peter if that Everhart woman or any other reporters try to corner us."

"Understood. How does National Intern Day sound, sir?"

Tony almost laughed. "Perfect. Thank you, FRIDAY."

"My pleasure."

Tony turned his attention to Peter. "You almost done, kid?"

Peter nodded, taking a final bite of the ice cream before placing the spoon back in the cup and tossing it into a garbage can opposite their table.

"Before we go, I want to give you a small debriefing on how to deal with reporters. FRIDAY alerted me that there may be a few outside waiting for us. The first thing you do is -"

"Actually, Mr. Stark," Peter tentatively interrupted, "there's something I want to tell you first."

Tony blinked in surprise. "Uh, okay. Shoot."

"Remember how earlier I said I wanted to dye my hair red because it would match my Spider-Man suit?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, sounds vaguely familiar. Why?"

"Well… That was a lie." Peter flushed, staring down at the table. "I wanted to match the Iron Man suit." He laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "When I told May, I was worried she was going to have an aneurysm. I'm not sure if you've noticed, Mr. Stark, but she's not exactly your biggest fan."

Tony snorted. "Believe me, kid - I've noticed." A soft smile danced on his lips. "I appreciate you being inspired by my suit, and I'm thanking God that you didn't say you wanted to match Cap's shield or something equally absurd."

Peter snickered. "I should have said it, just to watch you explode." He fingered the edge of his sleeve. "You really don't mind that I wanted to dye my hair because of you?"

Tony grinned at him. "Pete, I've never been more flattered in my life."

Peter's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Oh. Good."

"Glad you feel better." Tony glanced at his watch. "Alright. Kid, there's more than likely going to be press people lurking outside this place. Here's what's gonna happen: you are not going to talk at all, unless you're saying 'no comment.' I'll handle everything. Okay?"

Peter nodded. "Roger that, Mr. Stark."

"A new holiday has been created, sir," FRIDAY said.

"Thank you, FRIDAY." Tony stood from his seat, pushing his chair under the table. "Let's roll, kid."

"A new holiday?" Peter repeated, confused. "What new holiday, Mr. Stark?"

"Don't worry about it, Underoos," Tony replied, throwing his arm around the kid's shoulders and steering him towards the back exit. "Maybe if we're lucky we can make it around to the car without being caught. FRIDAY, what are our chances?"

His sunglasses darkened as his sightline was suddenly unimpeded by the walls around him. However, certain objects in the distance were blurrier than they should have been. He made a mental note to alter a few sections of the code for 'x-ray vision.'

"Most of the reporters seem to be waiting out front for you," FRIDAY replied. "There only appears to be six of them, however. Therefore there is a possibility you could leave unnoticed."

"Then let's make the most of that chance."

Both Tony and Peter left the ice cream parlor through the back door in as inconspicuous of a manner as possible, neither making eye contact with anyone as they passed around the front. They'd almost made it, but unfortunately for them, one of the reporters had decided to lurk by the car.

"Tony Stark," Christine Everhart said, an overly sweet smile on her face as her voice oozed with false pleasantry. "So wonderful to see you again. Mind if I ask you a few questions?" She glanced up at his hair, then down at Peter's. "Interesting dye choice."

"Actually, we do mind." Tony retorted. "Please step out of the way, Miss Everhart."

The blonde just sighed. "If you won't willingly answer my questions, then I guess I'll have to provide you with a little encouragement." She clapped her hands together, garnering the attention of the small crowd of reporters. "Hey, guys! He's over here!"

Tony winced, instinctively moving Peter behind him as the reporters practically swarmed them.

"Mr. Stark, who is this child and why are you at an ice cream parlor with him?"

"Matching hair colors, Mr. Stark? You must have been busy today."

"Is there anything you'd like to release to the press about the engagement of you and Pepper Potts?"

Tony tuned out the bombardment of questions, focusing on keeping his arm around Peter and ensuring that the reporters didn't get near him. He held up a hand to silence the noise. "I will answer three questions. No more, no less."

Immediately hands went up.

"You," Tony said, pointing at a short man with curly black hair, relishing in the look of irritation on Christine's face.

"Mr. Stark, Captain America and several other former Avengers are currently on the run. Have you been part of the efforts to track them down?"

"No," Tony replied, which was of course a lie. He knew exactly where the 'rogue Avengers' were - he just didn't care enough to report it. Or perhaps it was the fact that he _did_ care that he didn't report it. Either way, he wasn't planning to rat them out anytime soon. "If I was, they would have been apprehended already. Next question." He pointed at a tall, slender woman with dark skin and rich auburn curls.

"Many people are beyond ecstatic about your engagement with Pepper Potts," she said. "Is there anything you'd like to share about the wedding? Perhaps how you knew she was the one?"

Tony shrugged. "Pepper has always been by my side, even when I was thrice the asshole I am now. I don't deserve her and I never will, but I know I'm happiest when with her, and the fact that she agreed to marry me makes me the luckiest man in the world." His love for Pepper was one of the few things he didn't mind talking about to reporters, mostly because the public adored his fiancée and rarely found fault in her. "Final question." He pretended to look through the crowd of reporters, as if thinking deeply about who he was going to select. Finally he turned towards Christine. "Miss Everhart."

Christine smiled at him as she flicked her recorder on, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Stark. I'm sure the main question on everyone's minds here is this: who is the child you have with you? An illegitimate son? Your own little 'Annie' you've adopted to improve your public persona?"

Tony raised an eyebrow at her comments, offended but also not surprised. "How nice to know that you have such a high opinion of me, Miss Everhart. But you're incorrect on all accounts." He pulled Peter closer to his side. "I'd like you all to meet my personal intern at Stark Industries. He's a brilliant kid on every front, and is a real asset to the company when it comes to a fresh perspective. Today is National Intern Day, which you can look up if you don't believe me, and I decided to take him out for ice cream." He chuckled. "I know, I know - I must be getting soft in my old age." He glanced at his watch, pretending as if he had places to be. "All further questions should be directed to my work email, thank you and have a nice day."

"But what about the matching hair?" Christine demanded. "Isn't that a bit unusual for 'just an intern'?"

Tony made a 'tsk' noise. "I believe I said three questions only, Miss Everhart. But feel free to email me." He winked at her. "Considering it's you, I might just answer."

Christine begrudgingly moved out of the way, allowing Tony to help Peter into the passenger seat before he walked around the back and got behind the wheel. He pulled out of the parking lot quickly, not bothering to glance back at the reporters.

It was quiet for a while, with only the noises of traffic keeping them company.

Finally, Tony said, "You okay, Pete?"

Peter hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Yeah."

Tony sighed. "I'm sorry about that, kid. I should have thought things through. I didn't want you to have to deal with paparazzi - at least not while you're still a teenager. It's not fair to you." He remembered all too well what it was like to be a kid and have dozens of flashing cameras in front of his face while random people shouted questions in his ear. Peter already had trouble with his hypersensitivity to sensory details; reporters swarming him every possible second would only make that worse.

Peter shrugged. "It's not your fault, Mr. Stark. You shouldn't have had to drive all the way out here to take me to my hair appointment, anyways, so this is really on me."

Tony resisted the urge to pull over to the side of the road so he could properly lecture the kid. "Pete, in no way at all can you blame yourself for paparazzi showing up. Besides - _I_ was the one who insisted on bringing you myself."

"But Mr. Stark -"

"No," Tony interrupted. "The adult has not finished talking. Keeping reporters away from you was my responsibility, and I screwed up on that front. Not you. You handled everything perfectly. You stayed quiet and allowed me to deal with it. Only the information we wanted released about you was given out." He chuckled. "Pepper actually planned to have a press conference about the matter of your internship in a few weeks, so really the news just got out earlier than expected."

Peter bit his lip. "So you don't regret going out today?"

"Regret it?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Kid, today was the most fun I've had in a long time. I tried Thai food, I have a hot new look, I enjoyed ice cream named after me, and most importantly - I got to hang out with you, Spiderling. Can't get much better than that, even if there were a few pesky reporters at the end."

Peter smiled, and Tony didn't miss the relief dancing in his eyes. "Yeah. Today was really fun, Mr. Stark."

"Dare I say we should do it again sometime?"

Peter laughed. "We'll dye our hair blue."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Kid, you are going to be the death of me."

xXxXxXx

 **Bonus** :

Pepper glanced at the clock on her dresser, frowning as she read the time. It was well past midnight, and Tony was nowhere to be seen. While it wasn't unusual for him to pull all-nighters, as of late he'd been trying to go to bed at a reasonable time to set a good example for Peter. Needless to say, she hadn't minded that at all.

However, despite it being nearly one in the morning, Tony had not yet returned to their bedroom. She'd attempted to give him an extensive lecture when he and Peter had returned on why he couldn't cancel conferences last-minute and that it was dangerous to expose Peter to the press without careful planning, but the look of pure elation in Peter's eyes caused her to sigh and simply warn them not to do it again. There was something special about that kid, and she was pleased to note Tony understood that fact perhaps even better than she did.

Tony also looked more attractive than she'd care to admit with dark red streaks in his hair, and the fact that he and Peter matched admittedly _was_ adorable.

The three of them had all eaten dinner together before Pepper had gone back to her office, leaving Peter and Tony to entertain themselves.

She briefly wondered if they'd gone down to the lab, but quickly dismissed the notion. She probably would have heard an explosion at least once if that had been the case.

Pepper sighed, pushing the sheets off of herself before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. "FRIDAY, do you know where Tony and Peter are?" She didn't feel like searching through the entire tower.

"My scanners detect that they are in screening room number eight," FRIDAY replied. "Apparently they are 'binge-watching' the entire Star Wars franchise."

"Of course they are," Pepper muttered, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around herself, the cool air having easily pierced her thin pajamas before she'd done so. "Thank you, FRIDAY."

"My pleasure."

Pepper took the elevator down to the fifth floor, often called one of the 'fun floors' in the tower. After turning a few corners and having to backtrack once or twice, she found the correct room. She tiptoed in, spotting the duo sitting together in the front row while credits rolled on the screen.

Closer inspection, however, revealed that they'd both fallen asleep, with Tony's arm around Peter and Peter's head resting on Tony's shoulder.

Pepper shook her head at the sight, but a warm smile danced on her lips. She removed the blanket she'd wrapped around herself and gently placed it over them before quietly leaving and returning to her bedroom.

Yes, there was something very special about that kid. And she knew Tony wouldn't change it for the world.

xXxXxXx

 **Thank for you reading the beginning of what I'm sure will be a long compilation of many oneshots (because I get writer's block way too much), and I hope you stick around for more. Please feel free to leave me prompts/suggestions!**


	2. Blue

**I'd like to start by thanking each and every one of you for following, favoriting, and reviewing; it means the world to me and you guys are the reason I write (and also writing is my life - clearly).**

 **To business: school has recently kicked off again for me, and I'm already being weighed down by homework (which is ridiculous), meaning updates for this will likely be very spaced out. Same for my other stories (if you happen to read those, too, just know that I** _will_ **update and eventually complete them; it takes time to write each chapter, plus I have writer's block for some stories more than others).**

 **Honestly, drowning my sorrows in reading/writing Iron Dad and Spider Son is keeping me going right now. Anyways, enough rambling.**

 **Prompt (suggested by FanGirlForever19 on FanFiction):** _One day, while Peter is in the lab, he accidentally changes Tony's Iron Man suit color to blue. Tony is at a meeting outside of the compound, and Peter desperately tries to fix it before Tony gets back. Let's just say things don't go as planned. (You decide what goes wrong.)_

 **Note:** Certain events in this story are by no means 100% scientifically accurate (although I tried my best); please bear with any inaccuracies you may find and/or interpret them as artistic license.

 **Thank you for the suggestion, and I hope you (all of you) enjoy the resulting oneshot!**

xXxXxXx

"Oh shit."

"Peter, watch your language."

Peter ignored the AI, having long since gotten used to the reprimands Tony had programmed FRIDAY to deliver whenever he cursed. "Oh _shit_."

He had screwed up. He had screwed up _so_ bad.

Tony had been called away to an Avengers meeting or something at the compound and had left Peter with strict instructions not to tamper with either of their suits. Peter, being Peter, had decided not to listen. Besides, it wasn't _tampering_ if he was trying to do something nice, right?

He'd remembered Tony complaining about his suits becoming increasingly fragile as a result of adjustments that were made to the metal because of programming updates, and how he hadn't figured out a way to make them stronger with compromising the new codes. Peter had asked him about potentially making a steel alloy, which Tony said he was considering but hadn't yet had the time to develop.

Since then, Peter had been working on various formulas to form a steel alloy that would combine with the gold titanium one of the Iron Man suit. He'd manufactured many in Tony's lab - with the excuse that it was for school - and even a few at home, much to May's dismay when something would explode.

At long last - several months since his initial idea, at least - he'd finally created an alloy he thought would work. During his secret trials in the lab it had withstood several tons of force and was relatively bulletproof. It even combined _perfectly_ with the gold titanium alloy.

Well, at least in small amounts.

Peter had been almost as proud of himself for this creation as he had been for manufacturing the web fluid he used with his Spider-Man suit. He'd planned to introduce the alloy to Tony that day at the beginning of their 'lab session,' but the man had been whisked away to the Avengers meeting after spending less than two minutes with him.

But Peter decided that Tony's absence was a blessing in disguise. While he was gone, he could upgrade the Iron Man suit without him as a surprise! FRIDAY had of course warned him not to do so, but he figured it was in her programming to be protective of Tony and his suits and had proceeded anyways.

Then again, Peter could never be so lucky as to have everything work out exactly as he planned, could he?

Yes, the gold titanium alloys in the Iron Man suit _had_ paired with the steel alloy he'd created, and it had succeeded in his goal of making the suit more durable, but there was an unfortunate side effect.

Blue.

The Iron Man suit had turned _blue_.

Sure, it hadn't colored the entire suit and it wasn't some deep sapphire shade, but Iron Man was supposed to be _red_ \- blue was Captain America's thing.

Peter groaned at the thought. Not only would Tony chew him out for disobeying orders, but he'd _also_ chew him out for turning his suit into something Captain America-themed. Plus, the blue completely invalidated the fact that they'd gotten their hair dyed the same shade of red to _match_ the Iron Man armor.

He was so screwed.

"FRIDAY, what do I do?!" Peter shouted, panicking as he ran his hands through his hair. "How am I supposed to fix this before Mr. Stark gets back?!"

FRIDAY sighed, something Peter wasn't aware the AI was able to do. "Don't worry, Peter. Mr. Stark is not scheduled to return for another hour, and travel time from the compound to the tower takes approximately twenty to thirty minutes. I am certain we can find a solution to this problem."

Peter's heart rate slowed, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Right. Thank you. We can do this." He bit his lip. "Er, FRIDAY… You aren't going to _tell_ Mr. Stark about this, are you?"

"I am required to alert Mr. Stark of any attempts to alter his suits," FRIDAY replied, causing Peter to wince. "However, this particular suit was removed from its place by Mr. Stark himself, and you had no malicious intent in altering it. So no, I will not report to him unless something goes wrong in your attempts to return it to normal."

"Thank you so much, FRIDAY!" Peter would have hugged the AI if he could have. "We have an hour and a half. That's plenty of time, right?"

"I am inclined to agree with that statement."

Peter cracked his knuckles. "First things first: let's find out why and how the hell I turned this suit blue."

"Language, Peter. Would you like me to scan it?"

Peter glanced the armor up and down, wracking his brain for any possible reasons behind the sudden color change, but nothing came to mind. "Yes please."

"The scan will be complete in fifteen to twenty minutes. Might I advise working on your summer assignments for school while you wait?"

Peter groaned. "Twenty minutes?! FRIDAY, that's a long time for you."

"The bleeding edge armor is equipped with nearly as much programming as myself, Peter," FRIDAY explained. "The inclusion of nanobots in the technology also makes a scan more challenging."

"I understand," Peter said, sighing. Guess that meant he had to get started on his project for AP Chemistry…

xXxXxXx

Tony sighed, glancing at his watch impatiently. He understood that the meeting was important - it was regarding keeping track of the 'Rogue Avengers,' after all - but he didn't like that he had to leave Peter behind without warning. It wasn't as if the kid was unsupervised; FRIDAY was constantly monitoring him, Happy was on call if the need arose, and assorted staff members were littered amongst the tower. But it still didn't change the fact that Tony felt personally responsible for the kid.

"Yo, Tony? You still with us?"

The billionaire blinked in surprise, refocusing on the topic at hand. Rogue Avengers. Last seen in Akhaltsikhe, Georgia. He nodded. "Sorry. I tuned out for a minute there."

"He was worrying about Peter," Pepper explained, earning a glare from Tony.

"Thanks, honey. I love it when you reveal my inner thoughts to everyone. Why did I even bring you to this meeting again?"

"Because if one of us actually pays attention to anything around them, it's me. I've been taking notes the entire time, unlike someone else who chose not to listen to a word that's been said."

"It's perfectly understandable for you to be concerned for him," Vision interrupted before Tony could fire back a snarky retort at his fiancée. "I believe it's only natural for a father to care about his son, whether that relationship is biological or not."

"I agree with Vision," Rhodey added, though Tony didn't miss the smirk on his oldest friend's lips. "Caring about your kid is a good thing, Tony. It means you're opening yourself up."

"Okay, enough with the therapy session," Tony grumbled. "And enough about Peter. What was it you were saying about Steve and Wanda and them?"

"Besides the fact that the press last caught wind of them in Georgia?" Rhodey sighed. "It's obvious to us that supposed 'sighting' was just a ruse to draw the media's attention away from their real location, but since then - two weeks ago - none of our sources have surfaced with any new information."

"I traced their trail through the Internet as well," Vision added. "Nothing recent came up."

Tony frowned. "Huh. Odd." His sources were the most reliable on Earth. It did help that at least half were AI, of course.

Pepper handed him a manila folder. "This is all of the 'paper' information I managed to compile regarding the Georgia sighting and the two sightings beforehand."

"Thank you," Tony muttered absentmindedly, his mind already focused on poring through the pages. "Ugarchin, Suceava, Akhaltsikhe. Bulgaria, Romania, Georgia." The cities had virtually nothing in common, and neither did the countries they were located in. He repeated the names again, something seeming off, but he was unable to put his finger on _what_.

Then it clicked. "U… S… A…" Tony murmured, his eyes widening. "Those bastards are in the U.S. again!" He rolled his eyes. "Of course they'd leave us to figure it out like this. A code a child would be able to crack." He paused, then snickered. "I'd bet money it was Steve's idea."

Rhodey laughed. "If it was Natasha's idea, none of us would have figured anything out."

"What about the countries?" Pepper asked in a clear attempt to return the discussion to the topic at hand, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "Do they signify anything?"

Tony sighed, nodding. "Yeah. Probably a city or town with the initials 'BR' located in Georgia. Get on that and you'll have them." His mind drifted back to Peter and how'd he abandoned the Spiderling in the lab. Hopefully the kid had listened to him and wasn't poking his nose in places where it didn't belong.

"Then that takes care of the first half of the meeting," Rhodey said, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. "But there's something else we need to discuss: what exactly we're going to do with the 'Rogue Avengers.' We can't let them run free forever, and -"

"Excuse me," Tony interrupted, unable to stop himself from checking on Peter any longer. He stood from his seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I need to make a quick call. I'll be right back." He hastily stepped out of the room, already finished dialing Peter's number by the time the door swung shut behind him.

xXxXxXx

"The scan is complete, Peter."

Peter practically flew out of his seat as he quickly stashed the assignment he'd been working on inside of his chemistry textbook, running over to the where the suit stood. "Please tell me you know how to reverse this."

"According to the information I've gathered, we may be able to -"

FRIDAY was interrupted by the sounds of 'I Built a Friend' blasting through the lab.

Peter groaned, recognizing the ringtone immediately. "That's Mr. Stark calling. FRIDAY, please don't say anything while I'm on the phone with him, okay?"

"My figurative lips are sealed, Peter," the AI assured him.

Peter took a deep breath in an attempt to still his nerves before answering the phone. "Hey, Mr. Stark!" he squeaked, cursing puberty when he heard his voice crack and leap up an octave. "W-What's up? Aren't you, like, in a meeting right now?"

"So what, kid? It's not the first meeting I've stepped out of." Tony chuckled. "Hell, I could leave right now and it wouldn't be the first meeting I've ditched. Or the last, either."

Peter laughed, though it was strained. "You probably should stop skipping meetings, Mr. Stark. For Ms. Potts's sanity, if nothing else."

"I'm sure you're right," Tony admitted. "But I didn't call you to talk about my terrible life choices. How's everything at the lab? Blown anything up yet?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "'Yet?' Really, Mr. Stark? I'm not gonna blow anything up. It's way too expensive to replace. And if something _had_ blown up, FRIDAY would have notified you already."

"Nothing is too expensive for _me_ to replace. 'Billionaire' isn't just a fancy title. But alright, Spiderling. I'm trusting you." There was a long pause, and Peter wondered if he'd accidentally hung up on the man, but then Tony sighed. "I'm sorry I had to leave right away. I had no idea there was going to be a meeting today, and if it weren't for the topic we're having to discuss I would have brought you with me in a heartbeat."

"It's okay, Mr. Stark!" Peter said, trying to sound both comforting and reassuring simultaneously. "I understand. It's not your fault you had to leave. Besides - there'll be plenty of time to work when you get back! I'll be here for the whole month, remember?"

"I know, I know. I still feel bad, kid. I remember how much I hated it when my dad had to up and leave - which was all the time, because he was a shitty father - and I don't want you to feel that same way."

Peter nodded, torn between wanting to keep talking to Tony and desperately wanting to hang up so he could fix the suit. His decision was made for him, however, when he heard a faint yell on the other end of the phone.

"Tony! Finish that conversation. Pepper and Vision think they've found a lead."

"One minute, Rhodey!" Tony sighed, and Peter could almost picture the man rolling his eyes. "Sorry, kid. I've got to go. I'll be back in an hour or so, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Stark," Peter said. "See you then!" He nearly dropped the phone in his hasty attempt to hang up before tossing it onto the table. He ran back over to the suit, which was unfortunately still very much blue. "We have one hour to fix this. FRIDAY, tell me what you know."

"While I was unable to identify the cause of the color change in the suit," FRIDAY said, "the process it underwent to become blue is called 'bluing.'"

"How original."

"'Bluing' is not an unusual occurrence in steel."

"So we don't know what the trigger was," Peter murmured.

"Precisely," FRIDAY confirmed. "I was able to theorize after the scan that perhaps the steel alloy you created is simply more susceptible to bluing. It is also possible that the bonding process between the steel and gold titanium alloys resulted in the blue color."

"But none of my trials ever resulted in bluing," Peter pointed out.

"Affirmative. However, it could be a result of the increased quantities of both alloys in the suit. There is also the possibility that the bond is unstable and has resulted in a blue color."

Peter groaned. "Great. Mr. Stark's suit is going to blow up and he's going to hate me for the rest of his life." What was even scarier than hatred, however, was the fact that it was far more likely for Tony to be disappointed in him. The _look_ the man would give him was more terrifying and hurtful than anger could ever be.

"Do not panic, Peter." FRIDAY's warm - albeit robotic - voice interrupted his thoughts. "You have approximately fifty seven minutes before Tony returns. Based on my calculations, if you begin attempting to fix the suit now, you should have exactly three minutes to spare upon completion."

"Okay, that's not stressful at all," Peter squeaked, breathing faster than he would have liked. "It's fine! It's fine. It's _all_ fine."

"Peter, your heart rate has increased notably and you have begun to hyperventilate. Would you like me to contact help?"

Peter hastily shook his head. "No, no, I'm okay!" He took a deep breath before slowly exhaling, telling himself that everything was going to be fine and that it was all going to work out. "I'm okay. Let's get started on fixing the suit. Can you project a countdown timer somewhere so I'll always know how much time I have left?"

"Certainly, Peter." There was a small _click_ as a holographic timer appeared.

 _56:18._

 _56:17._

 _56:16._

Peter forced himself to look away from the clock and focus on the task at hand. "Okay, FRIDAY. Tell me what I should do."

"On account of the possibility that the bluing may be a result of an unstable bond, I recommend running tests on the suit to _eliminate_ that chance. If unfortunately an unstable bond _is_ the cause, there will be nothing you can do to return the suit to its normal color unless you want to put your life on the line."

Peter gulped. "I guess I'd better hope it's not an unstable bond, then."

"I am inclined to agree."

Peter sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Well, then I'd better get to work."

xXxXxXx

Tony frowned as the call ended. It might have been his imagination, but the kid had seemed more… Antsy than usual. Talking faster, abrupt topic changes, the like. Then again, he had to admit that he'd been more focused on delivering his apology than he'd been on Peter's reception of it. He was tempted to ask FRIDAY if anything had happened, but -

"Tony!"

He winced, recognizing the voice immediately. "I take it I've spent too long not in the meeting?"

Pepper crossed her arms, frowning at him. "How perceptive of you."

Tony sighed, sticking his phone into his back pocket. "Sorry." He allowed her to grab his arm and steer him back inside. "I just wanted to check up on the kid."

Pepper made a 'tsk' noise. "A classic case of helicopter parenting, in other words." She stopped at the doorway leading into the meeting room before running a hand through her hair, her blue eyes edged with exhaustion. "I know you care about Peter, Tony, but you can't let your worries interfere with your responsibilities."

"Peter _is_ one of my responsibilities," Tony growled. "And he's damn more important to me than some ex-friends who don't know how to take responsibility for _their_ actions!"

"Don't you think I know that, Tony?" Pepper snapped. "But you have to _trust_ Peter. He knows what he's doing, and if something _truly_ bad or potentially dangerous happened, he would tell you."

Tony sighed. "I know. But I still feel guilty for abandoning him. Plus, he sounded almost… Anxious over the phone. Which is weird for him." God, he just wanted to get back to the tower.

"Then have FRIDAY check it out," Pepper said. "Right now. It'll take half a second for her to gather information and report back to you. Okay?"

Tony didn't bother responding, immediately pulling his phone out and contacting FRIDAY. Less than five seconds later, the AI had provided him with a full report. He skimmed it over, hesitating before he said, "I guess everything's fine. Nothing of note in the diagnostics."

"Exactly as I said." Pepper pointed at the door. "Now get in there. As Rhodey tried to tell you, there's a lead we'd like to discuss with you."

Tony relented, returning his phone to his pocket before re-entering the room and sitting in his chair at the head of the table. "So what's this 'lead' I've heard so much about?"

Rhodey tapped a button on a device before sliding it over to him, a hologram of a city projecting from the top. "Blue Ridge, Georgia. Mostly mountains, apparently."

"You think this is it?" Tony said, zooming in on a few sections of the hologram. "Seems like a touristy kind of place."

"It is indeed a common tourist attraction," Vision confirmed. "But for whatever reason they feel it is safe enough to remain there for the time being."

Tony swiped the city away, a magazine popping up in its place.

"And that is a tabloid we believe has recorded an event the 'Rogue Avengers' may have been involved in," Pepper explained. "A mysterious rounding up of a drug cartel. They were found tied up in a warehouse where a deal was supposed to go down. None of them could recall how they'd ended up that way."

"So was it a memory wipe or were they knocked unconscious before they saw anything?" Tony mused, skimming over the article in the tabloid.

"From what we know, they wouldn't have weapons advanced to enough to wipe memories at their disposal," Rhodey said. "However, Natasha is with them. She'd barely break a sweat infiltrating a facility that _did_ have those kinds of weapons."

"I say we dispatch someone down there," Tony said, leaning back in his chair. He didn't normally jump to such a suggestion, but all he wanted was to get back to the tower and that was the fastest and simplest solution to come to mind. "Better safe than sorry."

"But we don't know how long they're going to be in Blue Ridge, _if_ they're down there at all," Rhodey countered. "Is it really worth it to send a team down?"

"It's not like I lack the resources," Tony snorted, instinctively massaging his left wrist. "One or two people is enough."

"I have a list pre-prepared of potential candidates that I can access at any moment," Pepper said, gesturing to her phone. "It would be easy to select one person or even a small group from them."

"Or perhaps it is time we sent one of ourselves down," Vision suggested. "They must be aware we are keeping tabs on them, as they've left behind many clues for us to follow, although even without the clues I believe we still would have had little difficulty knowing where they were. It may be time for us to confirm their suspicions."

Rhodey frowned. "And what do we get out of that? If anything it'll go to their heads."

Tony laughed, his tone tinged with bitterness. "What _hasn't_ gone to Cap's head by now?" He was gripping his left wrist so hard it was starting to hurt. "And yet people call _me_ the arrogant one."

Pepper must have noticed what he was doing to himself, because she placed her hand over his and gently undid his vice grip. She may have been looking ahead steadily while she did so, but Tony didn't miss her flinch when she saw the red marks that would undoubtedly form into bruises later.

God, he didn't deserve her.

"I understand that you're skeptical," Vision said. "But it's not as if it's only been a week since they became 'rogue.' It has been far, far longer."

Despite the fact that he was staring steadfast at the table, Tony could sense all eyes drifting towards him. It was understandable - he was the leader of sorts, after all - but at the same time he hated having to make each and every decision. "What the hell," he said, shrugging. "Go big or go home. Any volunteers?"

He said this, of course, knowing exactly who was going to put themselves forward.

Rhodey was still recuperating from his fall, Pepper was busy running Stark Industries, both he _and_ Pepper were in joint preparation of their wedding - oh, and not to mention Tony had a hyperactive fifteen-year-old kid to take care of.

Which he wasn't currently doing.

Because of this stupid meeting.

"I will go," Vision said. "I serve little to no purpose here, and I would be relieved to do something productive for a change. Only if that is permissible, of course."

Tony waved his hand dismissively, willing to do just about anything to end this meeting. "Fine by me. Although I do ask you keep your time with Wanda professional, if you can help it." While he was not the biggest fan of Scarlet Witch - in fact, the only person who probably disliked her more than he did was Bruce -, he respected how Vision felt about her. Nevertheless, their relationship was not worth the risk of blowing the plan out of the water.

"I understand," Vision said, nodding. "Thank you for allowing me to go, Tony."

"Great!" Tony clapped his hands together. "That means _I_ get to go now, too, right?" He stood from his chair, pulling Pepper up with him. "Let's go, honey. I've had enough 'meeting talk' for today."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Tony. Say hello to Peter for me, will you?"

Tony didn't bother to answer, he and Pepper already out the door.

xXxXxXx

Peter collapsed with relief into a chair, running his hands through his hair. "Good news, FRIDAY - the bluing of the suit was _not_ caused by an unstable bond." His entire body had been shaking as he'd run tests, praying in silence each time that nothing was going to blow up in his face - literally.

"That is indeed very fortunate, Peter," FRIDAY said. "However, I feel the need to inform you that you have approximately twenty seven minutes before Mr. Stark returns."

Peter let out a string of curses so foul it would have made a sailor faint.

"I do not plan on informing Mr. Stark of your alterations on his suit, Peter, but your language is a different matter entirely."

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered. "I'm just a little stressed at the moment." He stared at the suit like it was going to speak to him and tell him what was wrong and how to fix it. Finally, he sighed. "You know what? FRIDAY, google how to reverse bluing on steel." Peter was running out of options, and maybe the Internet could give him a solution. Or even better - a cause _and_ a solution.

"One source I've found recommends cleaning blued steel in vinegar," FRIDAY said. "There is vinegar, several buckets, and a few rags in one of the closets outside of the lab."

"The hell," Peter murmured as he ran out of the lab and started rummaging through the first closet he saw. "Why does Mr. Stark keep vinegar in here and not the kitchen?"

FRIDAY didn't answer, and he had a feeling she simply had no idea.

Peter found two jugs, neither of them labeled. He opened each and carefully wafted the smell to his nose - in other words, he didn't directly inhale it - towards him, but for some reason they smelled extremely similar, even despite his enhanced senses. "Damn it," he cursed. He was almost certain they were two different liquids, but he couldn't tell which was the vinegar. Perhaps the panic was interfering with his thought process.

"Peter, the ETA until Mr. Stark arrives has changed from twenty seven minutes to six minutes."

Yeah, the panic was definitely interfering with his thought process.

Peter's eyes widened. He had to fix the suit, and he had to fix it _now_. He grabbed both jugs, two buckets, a rag, and a pair of gloves before running back into the lab. "FRIDAY, am I going to die if I use both of these liquids? I'm almost positive one is vinegar, I just don't know _which_ one." He looked desperately at the bottles, searching for something, _anything_ to identify what they were. "Also, maybe you should tell Mr. Stark to label his stuff."

"Duly noted, Peter. And in the chance that you _do_ happen to create a harmful gas or corrosive liquid, the likelihood of you being injured is high but the likelihood of you dying is not."

Well, he supposed injury was better than dying. "Thanks, FRIDAY." He dumped part of the bottles into separate buckets - _not_ mixing them -, pulled his gloves on, dipped the rag in each, and started scrubbing.

Peter wasn't sure which liquid was actually working to remove the blue, but one of them was, because slowly but surely the Iron Man suit was returning to its hot rod red color. He finished scrubbing the left arm before he asked, "How much more time do I have, FRIDAY?"

"Four minutes."

'Shit' was the first word that came to Peter's mind, but in lieu of hearing yet another lecture from FRIDAY, he muttered, "Yikes."

"I would advise you to work faster."

Peter rolled his eyes but didn't comment, instead doubling the speed of his scrubbing. After a while, however, he felt his pace slowing. He was continuously stopping to cough into his arm, plus his eyes were burning and watering profusely. Without a doubt he should have been concerned, but Peter was so focused on ridding the suit of its blue color.

"Halfway there," he muttered to himself before breaking out into a fit of coughing, instinctively grabbing his neck as the air he inhaled stung, as if someone was clawing at the inside of his throat. The more he tried to breathe, the worse it felt.

"Peter, my sensors are detecting chlorine gas in your immediate vicinity," FRIDAY warned, "likely a result of an unintentional mixing of bleach and vinegar."

"So bleach was the other liquid," Peter murmured, starting to get lightheaded after another fit of coughing. "Mr. Stark _really_ needs to label his cleaning supplies…"

"Peter, I have locked down ventilation from the room to prevent the gas from spreading to other areas of the tower despite how small the amount and concentration is, but I highly recommend you leave before the effects from the exposure become prolonged or permanent," FRIDAY said.

"Nope," Peter muttered, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to stop them from watering. "I'm almost done with the suit."

'Almost done' was a slight exaggeration - he was yet finish scrubbing the chest or even start on the legs of the armor, but Peter had always been an optimistic person.

"Two and a half minutes until Mr. Stark's arrival," FRIDAY said. "If your condition worsens to something less reversible, I will be contacting him immediately."

"You're the best, FRIDAY. Not telling on me. I bet Happy would have told on me." So he was starting to sound a _little_ delirious - nothing a little focus couldn't fix. He tried to dip his rag into the vinegar - or maybe it was bleach? - but instead collapsed to his knees, coughs wracking his body.

Maybe FRIDAY had a point.

"Two minutes until Mr. Stark's arrival. Contacting him about your condition and the cause of it."

Peter cursed, but was interrupted by a cough halfway through. He couldn't hear what FRIDAY was saying, or even if Tony had answered her. He pushed himself to his feet, dropping the rag and throwing his gloves to the ground before stumbling out of the lab. The door slid shut with a loud _thud_ behind him, undoubtedly the work of FRIDAY.

He'd forgotten how soothing fresh air could be until it eased the burning in his eyes and throat, gasping in as much as he could without coughing again.

On the other hand, Peter could have sworn his head had been stuffed with cotton. His ears weren't working, and his vision was starting to fade. He blinked several times as if it would make a difference, and in a split second found himself leaning against the wall for support, the world seeming to spin around him.

 _Stupid suit_.

xXxXxXx

The car ride back to the tower was mostly silent, with Tony focusing on driving and Pepper reviewing a new contract she planned to give to Stark Industries employees that would give them more time off without fear of losing pay.

After a while, Tony couldn't take it. "Hey, Pep?"

Pepper looked up from her Stark Pad, her stylus pausing over a paragraph only halfway edited. "Yes?"

He sighed. "I have a few questions. And I want you to give me straight answers - no dancing around the point, and no lying to try to make me feel better."

Pepper frowned but agreed. "Fine." She turned her Stark Pad off, reclipping the stylus to its side before putting it away. "What's on your mind, Tony?"

Tony's grip tightened on the wheel, desperately wanting to look over to his fiancée but at the same time not able to keep his eyes off the road. Even after learning in Siberia that his parents were murdered and had not died in a car crash as he'd once believed, he had not yet been able to relinquish the habit of keeping his eyes on the road and being the one to sit behind the wheel whenever possible.

"Well?" Pepper said, an eyebrow raised. "You said you wanted to ask me something?"

"Right." Tony let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Do you think I made the right choice? With sending Vision down to Georgia? It's not that I don't trust him, I just…" He struggled to find the right words.

Luckily for him, Pepper knew exactly what he was asking. "I believe that sending Vision down will do no harm, Tony. If anything I suspect it will bring about similar if not the same results as sending down another one of our staff."

"I'm really only worried about him and Wanda," Tony grumbled. "I understand how difficult it can be to _not_ get distracted by the one you love."

Pepper swatted his leg, but a small smile was dancing on her lips. "For the time being, I would simply trust Vision. He's JARVIS, after all."

Tony wanted to reply that no, Vision was not JARVIS and would never _be_ JARVIS, but spite was a factor he tried not to act on around Pepper. "What about Peter?"

Pepper frowned. "What _about_ Peter?"

"Am I doing the right thing with him?" He noticed Pepper giving him a look that said 'be more specific,' albeit perhaps with less politeness. "You said I'm helicoptering him. Am I being overbearing? Is the kid going to be mad that I called him earlier? Is he going to think I don't trust him, or -"

"You're doing a wonderful job with Peter, Tony," Pepper interrupted, her voice as smooth as silk and warm as… Hot chocolate, or something. "You might be helicoptering him a _little_ , but that's understandable - you've never truly had to take care of someone that wasn't yourself up until this this point."

Tony was tempted to argue, but Pepper was right - she always was. "So you _don't_ think the kid hates me?"

Pepper gave Tony a soft smile, one she reserved just for him. "Tony, I don't think it's possible for Peter to hate you after everything you've done for him."

"Everything I've done for him?" Tony let out a bitter laugh. "I made him his suit, sure. I also brought him, a fifteen-year-old kid, into a battle for no reason except the element of surprise. Then I later I _took_ his suit and he almost _died_ because of it. And instead of having the decency to apologize, Pepper, you know what I did?" He shook his head in disgust. "I called it a 'tough love' moment." He stopped at a red light, leaning back in his seat and running his hands through his hair. "God, I'm a terrible person."

Pepper shrugged. "I'm inclined to agree with your logic, albeit not your conclusion." She smoothed her skirt. "Tony, you _were_ a terrible person, yes, but not anymore. All you do now is try to make things better for everyone else, and of course you're going to make mistakes along the way. If you feel so guilty about that, why not apologize to Peter when we get back? I think you'll find he's not as angry as you're worried he will be."

Tony could stop the corners of his mouth from turning up as the light turned green and he continued down the road. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Pepper."

"You'd be six feet under already," was his fiancée's deadpan response, causing him to laugh.

Of course, Tony could never be so fortunate as to have merriment last. He frowned as a symbol on the dashboard appeared to let him know that FRIDAY was paging from the tower. "That can't be good."

"You don't know that," Pepper tried to protest, but her words didn't match the worried look in her eyes.

Tony accepted the call, unable to stop his grip from tightening on the wheel. "What's going on, FRIDAY?" At least he was only a few minutes away from the tower.

"Mr. Parker has unintentionally made and inhaled chlorine gas, sir," was FRIDAY's response.

Tony's entire body stiffened, and he forced himself to take deep and even breaths, albeit while pressing the accelerator closer and closer to the floor. "Give me the facts. _Now_."

"Yes sir. Mr. Parker was attempting to do some cleaning in the lab, but the supplies were not sufficiently labeled and resulted in him unintentionally mixing bleach and vinegar, thereby creating a small amount of chlorine gas that he was in close proximity with."

Tony was so concerned for Peter that the question of why the kid was cleaning in the lab with vinegar barely crossed his mind. "Is he hurt?"

"Injuries sustained are minor," FRIDAY replied, her voice as comforting as possible for an AI. "Irritation to the eyes, lungs, and throat - likelihood of permanence is low but should be treated within a short time after exposure. I have already filtered out the lab to prevent the gas from spreading - which was more of a precautionary action - and Mr. Parker is currently leaning against the wall outside."

Tony muttered a curse under his breath as he whipped the car around a corner, nearly at the tower. "This kid is going to be the death of me."

"I'm already making arrangements to have him transported to the Avengers compound for treatment," Pepper said, typing on her phone. "We can't risk his identity leaking by taking him to a normal hospital."

Tony silently thanked God for the perfection that was Pepper. "We're almost back, FRIDAY. Less than one minute. If something happens to Peter between now and then, let me know. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

There was a quiet _click_ as FRIDAY ended the call, and then the only sound was that of the car's engine. Seconds later Tony pulled into the tower's garage and practically slammed on the brakes, barely turning the car off before jumping out and running inside, Pepper right behind him.

Tony flew down the stairs that led to the lab, where sure enough Peter was leaning against the wall, facing away from him. "Pete!" he shouted, running over to the kid. "Pete, are you alright?"

Peter managed to turn around, and Tony almost choked on his breath when he saw how red the boy's eyes were. "Oh, hey Mr. Stark… Don't go in the lab, please."

"What are you talking about?" Tony said, only to forget all about the strange comment when Peter's legs buckled. "Shit!" He managed to reach out and the catch the kid before he hit the ground.

Pepper suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs. "There's a helicopter outside waiting to take the two of you to the compound immediately."

Tony shook his head as he scooped Peter into his arms, carrying the little Spiderling bridal style. "Rhodey's gonna find it so funny that I'm already going back there, although he may not appreciate the fact I'm bringing a 'patient' with me."

Pepper rolled her eyes and followed him up the stairs. "You're overthinking it. I've already contacted him to explain the situation, and he's prepping a room in the Medbay as we speak." She glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid I can't accompany you to the compound, but give me a call later, okay?"

Tony nodded as he crossed the threshold that led to the outside where the helicopter was awaiting them. "I guess I'm a literal helicopter parent now, aren't I?"

Pepper gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before nudging him forward. "Yes, I'd say you are. Now remember not to panic while you're there, because Peter is going to be fine, okay?"

"No promises," Tony said before climbing into the helicopter, nodding at the pilot before carefully placing Peter down onto the backseat. He strapped the Spiderling in as best he could before doing the same for himself.

God, this kid was making him go gray.

xXxXxXx

It took less than fifteen minutes to get to the compound, much to the relief of Tony's heart rate, which was skyrocketing according to FRIDAY. He carefully unstrapped Peter from the helicopter's seat, then froze as the kid started to stir.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter murmured, his eyes bleary. "Where -" He interrupted himself with a fit of coughs. "Hurts."

"I know, Pete," Tony responded, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "But we're gonna get you inside, okay? Rhodey's gonna fix you up, and you'll be back to your irritating self before you know it. Can you walk?"

Peter nodded, slowly sitting up before getting to his feet.

Tony immediately noticed the way the kid's knees shook, and proceeded to wrap Peter's arm around his shoulders, taking some of the weight off his feet. "I got you. We'll walk together."

Peter nodded, his eyes watering. Whether it was tears of pain or simply because he felt guilty about having to be helped, Tony wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't like seeing the kid cry.

It took them a few tries, but they eventually got the hang of walking in sync and carefully made their way into the compound. Rhodey met them at the door.

"Pepper briefed me," he said, moving to Peter's other side and lifting the kid's arm over his shoulders, providing some support of his own despite his weakened legs. "Chlorine gas, huh?"

"I highly recommend you label your cleaning supplies, sir," FRIDAY said from Tony's glasses. "I've made a note for you to do so as soon as possible."

"You don't have your cleaning supplies labeled?" Rhodey said dubiously. "Come on, man."

Tony rolled his eyes as they turned the corner into the Medbay. "I don't need a lecture now, Rhodes. Let's focus on Peter."

"Don't blame Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have -"

"We are not dividing up blame right now," Tony interrupted, opening the door leading into Peter's 'room.' "Rhodey, please tell me you have everything set up."

Rhodey nodded as he helped Peter onto the bed. "I'm a trained field medic, Tony. Peter's going to be fine." He gestured to the door. "Wait outside for a bit. I need to hook him up to some stuff."

Tony tried to protest, but Rhodey held up a hand to silence him.

"Trust me, Tony. It'll take me ten minutes, max. In case you haven't noticed, this room is pretty small. You can come back in as soon as I'm done; I just don't need you accidentally getting in the way of anything that might hinder Peter's healing."

Tony was still hesitant, but then Peter smiled at him.

"I'll be okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Ten minutes. Then I come back in."

Rhodey nodded, and Tony left, sitting down in one of the chairs outside. "Okay, FRIDAY," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why don't you tell me what happened in that lab?"

FRIDAY hesitated. "Sir, I told Peter that I would not speak of -"

" _FRIDAY_. That's an order."

If his AI could have sighed, she would have. "Fine. But I request that you do not get mad at Peter, sir."

A bitter laugh escaped Tony's lips. "Sometimes, FRIDAY, I wonder if I even can."

xXxXxXx

Peter woke up to the sound of a quiet beeping, although his brain seemed to be processing information at a slower rate than usual. He realized there was something resting on his face. He lifted his left arm, planning to reach up and feel what it was, only to wince as something pulled at his skin.

Blinking, he tried to clear his vision. A tube. That's what it was. Probably an IV.

Why did he have an IV in his arm? Was he in a hospital?

Oh, right.

He'd accidentally made chlorine gas while trying to reverse the bluing on the Iron Man suit.

He vaguely remembered a helicopter ride, Tony helping him walk into the compound, and Rhodey lecturing Tony, but everything else was foggy.

Peter reached up with his right arm - which did _not_ have any tubes in it - to feel whatever was heavy on his face. It was covering his nose and mouth. A mask?

He breathed in, and the air was… Wet. And cold.

He didn't like it. He tried to remove it, but it was securely attached. His super strength must have been malfunctioning. Or he was tired and drugged up. Either one. Maybe both.

"Kid, I wouldn't take that off on your own."

Peter turned his head as much as he could to see Tony sitting in a chair leaning against the wall of the room.

"You know, I'm pretty impressed - and also thankful - that you didn't panic when you woke up and found an oxygen mask on your face and an IV in your arm," he continued. "Of course, I'm sure the drugs help. Rhodey figured if they worked on Cap, they'd work on you." He stared at Peter. "You are _never_ allowed to clean anything again, understand me? At least not until I get those cleaning supplies labeled, which Pepper has a team working on right now." A small smile danced on his lips. "That woman is a gift."

Peter wanted to talk but the mask wouldn't let him, resulting in unintelligible mumbles.

"Alright, hang on," Tony said, standing up. "FRIDAY, can I remove the oxygen mask?"

"Yes sir," FRIDAY replied after a moment.

"Great." Tony walked over to him, messing with a few things on the machine that was still continuing to beep before carefully lifting Peter's head and removing the mask from around it. "You were out for a few hours, Pete. There wasn't much Rhodey could do but give you some humidified oxygen. And now your advanced healing has taken care of pretty much everything else. In another hour you'll be back to normal."

Peter managed a laugh once the mask was off, slowly managing to sit up. "Radioactive spider bites are pretty useful, I guess."

Tony hung the oxygen mask on the side of the machine. "Yeah, they sure are."

Peter bit his lip, wondering what to say next. Fortunately, he didn't have to figure it out.

"Pete, FRIDAY told me everything. The steel alloy, the bluing, the accidental mixing of vinegar and bleach."

Ugh. He should have known the AI would tattle. Peter sighed, unable to keep guilt out of his face. "Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have messed with the suit, but I wanted to surprise you, and I thought you might be proud that I'd managed to do something without your help, and…" He trailed off, staring down at his hands. "I screwed up. I should have waited for you to get back." Silence fell, and he waited for Tony to get angry. To yell at him. To take his suit as punishment.

"I'm not mad, kid."

Peter looked up in surprise. "What?"

Tony sighed, sitting back down in the sole chair leaning against the wall. "You heard me. I'm not mad. You were trying to do something good, but you messed up, and you admit it. I'm not going to be angry when you're already disappointed in yourself." He frowned at Peter. "Although, if you pull something like this _again_ , I will be beyond enraged. You nearly gave me a heart attack when you passed out and collapsed into my arms at the tower."

Peter winced. "Sorry, Mr. Stark."

"Kid, I should be the one apologizing." Peter noticed that Tony wasn't making eye contact with him. "I went and left you. Didn't give a real reason why. 'A meeting.'" Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't even _try_ to listen to what you were trying to tell me, which I assume was about the steel alloy."

Peter nodded. "Yeah. Which backfired, anyway." He frowned. "But Mr. Stark, it's not your fault. You don't have control over what the Rogue Avengers do - it's their problem that they went against the Accords. They're in the wrong, not you."

Tony shrugged, the look in his eyes screaming that he wanted to change the subject. "If you say so, kid. Anyways, I had Dum-E finish cleaning up the suit - blue wasn't even a half bad color, you know, but I can't stand the idea of looking like the Capsicle - and I have to admit, you did good work with it. The durability has increased drastically, and it only caused a few regressions in software."

Peter's eyes widened. "Really? You like it?"

Tony nodded, a small smile dancing on his lips. "It's quite impressive, Underoos. Next time you're at the lab with me, I say we tinker with the formula a bit more. Two minds are better than one. Maybe work with some vibranium I'm having shipped in."

Peter bit his lip. "You mean… You're letting me back into the lab?"

"Of course I am," Tony scoffed. "A genius kid like you needs a place where he can work, although apparently you also need constant supervision, Spider-Baby."

Peter groaned, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Mr. Stark, I thought you were going to stop calling me that."

"I think I'm allowed to use it after you almost made me go into cardiac arrest, _Spider-Baby_."

Peter buried his face in his hands. "I hate you."

"You should." Tony was smirking. "I'm going to have to call your unusually attractive aunt later and tell her what happened."

Peter froze. "Mr. Stark, you wouldn't."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." He adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his seat. "I won't tell Aunt Hottie about this, so long as you promise to never touch the cleaning supplies in my tower again."

Peter couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I promise, Mr. Stark."

"Excellent." Tony clapped his hands together. "Hurry up and finish healing, kid. I'm taking you, Pep, Rhodes, and Happy to dinner tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Three reasons. One, I can't cook. Two, you didn't die. Always a good thing. Three, I'm celebrating the fact that I managed to get through today without any of my hair turning gray. An amazing feat, what with the stress you've caused me."

Peter snickered. "You sure about that, Mr. Stark? I see a gray patch right in the middle of your head."

"Okay, fine. You're grounded, Spider-Baby."

"What?!" Peter yelped. "For how long?"

Tony smirked at him, a devilish light dancing in his eyes. "Well… How about until _your_ hair turns gray?"

Peter just groaned.

xXxXxXx

 **I hope you had as much fun reading this oneshot as I did writing it. Feel free to keep leaving prompt suggestions! For the most part, I'm writing them in the order I receive them, but who knows? Maybe your idea will strike my fancy. Thanks for reading, and I hope you stick around for more.**


	3. Sunset Apologies

**Thank you all so much for your kind reviews and amazing prompt suggestions! I promise that I'll get to all of them eventually (slow and steady writing means better writing - I hope).**

 **This ended up being much longer than I thought it was going to be, and I'm not sure whether that's good or bad. I** _am_ **pretty satisfied with the overall product, however, and I hope all of you are, too.**

 **Prompt (suggested by xOpal69 on FanFiction):** I'd like to see this version of Tony go through the aftermath of Infinity War.

 **Note:** Most of these oneshots will take place in my little made-up timeline where May is on a cruise, but of course there are exceptions, and this happens to be one of them (seeing as it takes place after Infinity War). Also, Steve is a bit of an jerk in this, but that's mostly because he's stressed and unintentionally letting his anger and frustration get the better of him.

 **WARNING:** There are several descriptions of panic attacks in this oneshot, so if you are sensitive to such content, please proceed with caution.

 **Thank you for the suggestion, and I hope you enjoy!**

xXxXxXx

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony stiffened as Peter's voice rang out across the empty planet, more hollow and quieter than he'd ever heard it be before. He turned around to see the kid staring at his hands in horror, watching as paper thin cracks slowly started to spread through them.

"I don't feel so good."

Peter stumbled forward and tried to regain his balance as he looked up at Tony, brown eyes brimming with tears, silently pleading for him to make everything better.

"You're alright," Tony insisted, praying to a God he wasn't sure was there that everything was going to be okay. It had to be. He couldn't lose Peter. _Please_ , not Peter. The kid wasn't even sixteen.

"I don't know - I don't know what's happening," Peter gasped, eyes screaming in fear and pain as he glanced down at his right hand that was already crumbling into dust before he tripped over his feet and fell forward into Tony's arms, clutching the man tighter than he ever had before. "I don't know - save me, save me!"

Tony almost fell backwards when the kid's full weight slammed into him, but even as Peter begged for his life he was unable to say a word, his voice trapped at the back of his throat. Instead, he held Peter close to his body, wrapping his arms around him in an attempt to ground them both. He didn't know what to do, God, _why_ didn't he know what to do?

"I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, sir, please, _please_! I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go!"

Tony could feel Peter's tears seeping through his clothes, the kid's body getting lighter and lighter by the second. He knew what was happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn't even respond to Peter's cries, only holding him tighter and managing to cradle the kid's head in his hand as they tumbled to the ground.

He didn't dare to look back, but Tony knew that Peter's legs were gone.

Instead he stared at his kid's face, watching tears trickle down his cheeks and praying to God that it was all some nightmare, that Thanos had never gotten all the Infinity Stones, that he'd wake up with Pepper sleeping peacefully beside him, and that Peter would be alive and well at his apartment in Queens.

As if he could ever be that lucky.

Peter's cheeks were streaked with dust, whether from the planet or his own body Tony didn't know and he didn't _want_ to know. Their gazes met, and Peter's lips parted slightly, as if he was struggling to get words out.

"I'm sorry."

Tony wanted to scream and shout that no, he didn't need to be sorry because he didn't do anything wrong, but there was a lump in his throat preventing his voice from escaping. All he could do was stare in horror as Peter crumbled to ash in his arms, a dark gray that starkly contrasted against the orange sky and red dirt of Titan.

Tony closed his eyes, unable to watch as the kid - _his_ kid - disappeared into the wind. He clutched his left wrist as he so often did when he was unable to do anything else, a single tear escaping his eye and falling down his cheek.

It was his fault.

He was the reason Peter was dead.

"Why, Mr. Stark?"

Tony's eyes flew open to see Peter standing but a few feet in front of him, a confused frown painted on his lips.

"Why didn't you save me? Why did I have to die?"

Tony shook his head, scrambling to his feet. "Kid, no -"

"You could have saved me, Mr. Stark. Why didn't you save me?"

Tony stumbled backwards, still shaking his head. "Pete, I…"

Peter's eyes welled with tears. "I thought you cared about me, Mr. Stark! Am I just a tool for you? Do you only pretend to like me because I'm Spider-Man? Because I'm some kind of asset to you?"

"No, _no_ ," Tony repeated. "Peter, why are you -"

"I'm dead, Mr. Stark." Peter slowly shook his head. "And it's your fault."

xXxXxXx

Tony's body jerked awake, and he immediately sat bolt upright in bed, body drenched in cold sweat. His short, sharp breaths echoed in the small room, and for a moment he had no idea where he was.

"We're in Wakanda, Tony." Pepper's soothing voice interrupted his hyperventilation and his shoulders relaxed as she placed her hands on them. "You're not on Titan anymore. You and the others are working on a theory to reverse Thanos's snap, remember? You can and will bring Peter back."

At the mention of Peter's name, all the details of the nightmare came flooding back to him, just as they had every night since he'd returned to Earth. Nausea overwhelmed him, and Tony nearly fell out of bed before running into the connecting bathroom, collapsing to his knees and leaning over the toilet as he dry heaved.

It was the same. Every time.

He gagged, his body shuddering from the force, but nothing came up.

"It's because you aren't eating, Tony." Pepper knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. "I know you don't want to, but tomorrow you really need to try to eat and drink something besides coffee, okay?"

Tony shook his head, still leaning over the toilet. "Can't," he managed to choke out. "My fault. Peter's dead. My fault." He heaved again, his breaths uneven and scratchy. "He can't - he can't eat. Or drink. My fault, Pepper." He tightened his grip on the edge of the toilet bowl as another wave of nausea wracked his body, this time stomach acid coming up and burning his throat as he heaved.

"Tony, it's not your fault," Pepper said. She told him that every night, always on the bathroom floor as he tried to battle his guilt while his body took the toll. "And inside, you know that. Wherever Peter is, he knows it, too. You're going to bring him back, Tony. You will. I _know_ you will."

Shudders finally stopped jerking through his body, and Tony felt the nausea subside, only to be replaced by the ever-worsening chill in his bones. Pepper didn't remove her hand from his back, even as he moved away from the toilet. "What if…" He could barely stomach the thought, and he wondered if he'd abandoned the toilet too soon. "What if we can't?"

Pepper didn't answer. She never answered that question, not after having acknowledged it after his first nightmare, which had then resulted in him nearly having an aneurysm.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, barely noticing the tears starting to fall down his cheeks. "I killed him, Pepper. I couldn't save him. He was just a kid!" His voice broke on the final word, and it was only then he allowed the tears to truly flow.

"There was nothing you could have done," Pepper said, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You can't keep blaming yourself, Tony." She gently pushed the hair plastered to his forehead from sweat out of his face before pressing a kiss to his temple. "You're doing everything you can to get him back. If you keep beating yourself up over it, you're only going to hinder your progress. Okay?"

Tony didn't respond. She was right, just as she always was, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Instead, he buried his face in her shoulder, allowing himself to fade away into his fiancée's words of comfort.

He knew he'd have the same dream again tomorrow.

xXxXxXx

"James Rhodes is requesting you allow him access to the lab, sir," FRIDAY said from the glasses that had been cast to his left on the table. "If I may, I would recommend that you -"

"I don't care, FRI," Tony muttered, tossing a screw behind him. "No one's getting in here. Not now."

"Sir, I must remind you that you are currently using the Wakandan lab, therefore in truth you do not have the authority to prevent others from entering."

"Which I'm _not_ doing," Tony argued. "Wakandans can come and go as they please - all I did was change a few codes in the system's interface to keep anyone non-Wakandan with the exception of myself out. If T'Challa were here, I'm sure he'd be grateful that I'm limiting the access of foreigners to the lab."

"While your statement may hold some truth, sir, I doubt he'd appreciate you locking yourself in here as a way to shut everyone else out," FRIDAY countered.

"T'Challa barely knew me," Tony scoffed. "He wouldn't give a damn about whether I'm alone or not. Now leave me alone, FRI. I'm working."

"Working or tinkering, sir?"

Tony's grip tightened on the upgraded webshooters he'd started developing ever since he'd returned to Earth from Titan. Working on them as a gift for Peter if - no, _when_ \- he brought him and the others back was one of the few things keeping him grounded.

"Sir?"

Unable to stop himself, Tony grabbed his sunglasses from the table, snapping them in half without a second thought. In a matter of seconds, however, the nanobots he'd built them out of reconnected together.

"I must admit you hurt my feelings with that, sir."

"Let me be, FRIDAY," Tony grumbled, tossing the glasses back down. "I don't want to hear it."

"Understood. Allowing James Rhodes access into the lab."

Tony bit back a scream of frustration. Sometimes his AI had too much intelligence and not enough artificial. "FRIDAY, as soon as everything gets sorted out, I'm replacing you with someone that will actually _listen_ to me."

"If you say so, sir," was all FRIDAY had to say in response.

"Hey."

Tony sighed and turned around, not even flinching as Rhodey winced and took in his appearance. He knew he looked like shit. After all, that was what happened when a person didn't eat or sleep. Not to mention it was often made worse when said person also had a tendency to drown themselves in work to forget the world around them. "Hey yourself."

"You look awful, you know."

Tony shrugged. "That's your opinion. I've been voted sexiest man alive a grand total of twelve times, you know."

"Not if they could see you now." Rhodey sighed. "Tony, Pepper says you're practically living in here. You can't do that, man. We need you helping us. We'll only be able to fix everything if we all work together."

"Yeah, right," Tony scoffed. "Working as a team never got us anywhere, and that's assuming we were ever actually able to work together at all. I assume you haven't forgotten the Accords fiasco?" He glared at his friend. "Oh wait, I forgot you're all buddy-buddy with the Capsicle again. Even after I told you _everything_ about Siberia." His heart was racing, and he was undoubtedly breathing faster than he should have been. "After everything I admitted to you, after _everything_ -" He cut himself off, inhaling in sharp gasps.

Rhodey was immediately at his side, pulling out a stool from under one of the tables and helping him sit down. "Calm down, Tones. Breathe with me." He took deep, slow breaths, encouraging Tony to do the same. "You're in Wakanda. You're alive. The arc reactor is in one piece. Breathe."

It took him several minutes, but with Rhodey's help he was able to relax. At least physically. "Sorry," Tony muttered. "Shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm just…" He couldn't finish the sentence. "You haven't told anyone about what happened on Titan, right?"

Rhodey shook his head. "No. And I promise I won't say anything."

Tony nodded, relief flooding through his body. Only Pepper and Rhodey knew about Titan. What had happened to Peter. And as far as he was concerned, no one else needed to know.

"Listen," Rhodey continued, returning to the previous topic. "Any other situation, Tony, I would not have hesitated to punch Steve right in the jaw. I'll even admit that although half the universe was at stake, I was _still_ tempted to do it."

Tony managed a chuckle at that. "Thanks. Appreciated."

"But I couldn't," Rhodey continued. "I had no choice but to work with him and the others. Just like you have to do that now. You can't figure it out alone, Tony."

"You don't know that," Tony mumbled, but in fact he _did_ know in his gut that Rhodey had a point. Everyone seemed to understand things except for him these days.

"You're the smartest person I know, Tones. But you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Weight of the world?" A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "I don't give a _shit_ about the world, much less the rest of the universe." Tony glanced down at the webshooters he still held in his left hand. "There's only one reason I need to reverse the snap, Rhodes." His grip tightened on them. "One. Reason."

Rhodey's eyes softened, and he placed his hand on Tony's shoulder before give it a gentle squeeze. "I know. And you will." He removed his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. "But the only way to do that is if we work together. Understand?"

Tony sighed. Rhodey was right - of course he was right - but it didn't mean he wanted to admit it. "Yeah. I know." He jumped off the stool, trying to act more energized than he felt. "Let's get started, then. If you're making me work with everyone else, then we don't have any time to waste. The sooner we've succeeded, the better."

Rhodey laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "There's the Tony we all know and love."

No, he wanted to say. That Tony had died on Titan, when his kid had crumbled to ash in his arms.

xXxXxXx

"Goddamnit," Tony cursed, staring up at the shelf several feet above him. While he knew he was by no means _short_ , he was also well aware that he wasn't exactly the tallest guy around. And unfortunately, in Wakanda where everyone seemed to be taller than average, that meant he couldn't reach a solid 87% of their shelves.

"Should I request someone to come and provide you with assistance, sir?" FRIDAY asked from his sunglasses.

"God, no," Tony replied, mortified at the mere suggestion of having to ask someone to help him because of the reason that he was too short to reach the shelf. "You're going to make me have a heart attack, FRIDAY."

"That is a lie, sir."

"Yeah, not for long," he muttered, ignoring his AI as he tried to figure out what to do. If he jumped, there was the possibility he could reach it, but he didn't want to rip through the stitches currently holding his side together, which was yet to finish healing from the stab wound Thanos had so kindly given him.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, what is in the box you are trying to acquire?"

Tony sighed. "A few spare parts. Or so I was told." He paused before adding. "You know, I don't recall making you so nosy, FRI."

"Perhaps," FRIDAY hummed. "But you did create me to evolve based on circumstances and surroundings. I have learned a great deal from you and Ms. Potts, although my 'nosiness' may best be attributed to Mr. Parker."

Tony's entire body stiffened at her words. She was right. Peter always asked questions. Didn't know when to stop. He'd be embarrassed afterwards, and then would proceed to not stop apologizing for asking so many questions.

 _"Did you really use nanobots, Mr. Stark?!"_

 _"Yes, Pete, as I've said a hundred times by now."_

 _"That's so cool!"_

 _"Yes, which_ you've _said a hundred times by now."_

 _Peter flushed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm probably getting pretty annoying, huh?"_

 _Tony chuckled, ruffling the kid's hair. "Nah. It's nice to have someone geek out over my brilliance every once in a while, instead of calling me an arrogant bastard or trying to steal my tech and use it for world domination."_

 _Peter snickered. "Well, to be fair, I've never said I_ wasn't _going to take over the world."_

 _"Oh yeah?" Tony shook his head, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. "You'd probably succeed, too. The first person to successfully take over the world and it'd be a twelve-year-old genius."_

 _"I'm fifteen, Mr. Stark."_

 _"Sure you are, Spider-Baby." Tony flicked the kid's nose. "If you were fifteen, you wouldn't be able to use those puppy dog eyes on everyone like you do. But you can, therefore you can't be older than twelve."_

 _Peter pouted. "That's not fair, Mr. Stark!"_

 _Tony laughed. "Life's not fair, kid." He glanced at his watch. "I'm tired of working. You technically don't have to be home for another two hours. Want to watch a movie?"_

 _"Star Wars?"_

 _"Absolutely not. We watched that last time."_

 _Peter groaned. "Ugh. Fine." His eyes suddenly lit up. "Ooh, I know what we should watch!" He beamed at Tony. "You have to guess what it is, Mr. Stark. But here's a hint: it's the best superhero movie of all time."_

 _"What, is it that biopic about me?"_

 _Peter's eyes widened. "There's a movie about you?!"_

 _Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course there is. I'm the legendary Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist." He paused as a thought came to mind. "You know, I think they're working on a second one now. Maybe it's a third."_

 _"We have to watch it!" Peter grinned at him. "I want to know_ all _of your life's secrets, Mr. Stark."_

 _"Of course you do." Tony shook his head, but a small smile was dancing on his lips. "You're too nosy for your own good, kid."_

"Tony?"

Tony blinked, reality crashing back down on him. Wakanda. That's right. He was in Wakanda. He'd been trying to reach a box. Spare parts. The box of spare parts was on a shelf that was too high for him.

When had he collapsed against the wall?

He slowly straightened himself up, his legs still somewhat unsteady, then turned around to see that Natasha had been standing behind him. He still wasn't used to her bleached hair.

"FRIDAY contacted me," she said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "She said you needed help with something. Are you alright?"

"I apologize, sir," FRIDAY said from his glasses, her voice low enough so only Tony could hear. "Your heart rate was elevating rapidly, and once you started having to support yourself with the wall I contacted help. Neither Ms. Potts nor Mr. Rhodes were available, and Ms. Romanoff was the only one to respond out of the others."

Tony sighed. His AI had simply followed the orders he'd programmed her with. He couldn't fault her for that. Instead, he returned his attention to Natasha. "Actually, Agent Romanoff, there is something I could use your assistance with."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing that he'd avoided answering her question but chose not to comment on it. "I never thought this day would come. The legendary Tony Stark admitting that he needs help."

"Actually, that moment has come and gone already," he grumbled, recalling his conversation with Rhodey a few days earlier about them all having to work together. "But if you're going to act like that, I'll find someone else to assist me."

Natasha frowned. "I was joking, Tones. Lighten up a little. We can't afford to wallow in anger if we're planning on getting anything done."

It was easy for her to say that. She hadn't lost anyone. Not like he had.

Of course, she didn't _know_ he'd lost someone. Neither her nor Steve nor Bruce had any idea. And he planned to keep it that way. They didn't need to know. They'd probably blame him if they found out he'd allowed a child to die. 'Why didn't you take better care of him' and 'why did you bring him with you' and God, Tony knew he wouldn't be able to take it. He was already asking himself those same questions every day.

"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm just tired."

Natasha nodded in sympathy. "I understand. We all are. And you've been working harder than any of us."

Tony heard her unspoken question: _Why?_ Even he had to admit that to anyone who didn't know about Titan, it was strange that he, the conceited Tony Stark, was working so desperately to bring back half of the universe. The fact that most had him labelled as a man who did nothing unless it involved personal gain didn't help, either. "I need you to get that box down for me," he continued, trying to steer the subject back to its original purpose.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Really? You do realize you can jump and reach it, right?"

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes before he lifted up his shirt to show her the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his torso. "In case you've forgotten, Romanoff, I was stabbed not that long ago. If you really want me to 'jump and reach it,' as you said, I'll gladly do so, but then _you_ will have to deal with the fact that blood will be oozing out of my side and all over the floor."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were quirked upward. "I suppose I can count that as a valid excuse." She walked over to the closet, eyeing the shelf a few feet above her head. A moment later, she jumped into the air - higher than what was possible for an average human, Tony was certain - and held onto the top of the door frame for a split second as she seized the chance to grab the box he needed.

She landed on the ground with her knees bent to absorb the shock of the landing, easily returning to her full height as she glanced down into the box. She frowned. "Was there supposed to be something in here?"

Tony groaned. "Yes, but I take it there's not?"

Natasha tilted the box, showing him the empty inside. "Nothing except dust and spiderwebs."

Tony could have sworn his heart skipped at least five beats before hyperventilation began.

He was back on Titan, holding Peter tightly in his arms until there was nothing left for him to hold on to, falling to his knees on the hard, red-brown soil.

Peter was dead. Because of him.

"Tony?"

Natasha's concerned voice filtered into his mind, and the world of Titan slowly returned to the walls of the Wakandan palace around him.

"Tony, what's going on?"

He hadn't even realized he'd started gripping his left wrist, shudders wracking his body ever so often as he breathed in harsh gasps. "I'm fine," he choked out, turning away from her and stumbling before making his way down the hall and back to his room.

"You're clearly not," Natasha argued, following him. "What happened out there, Tony? In space?"

God, Tony hated how intuitive the Russian woman was. "Nothing." His fingernails clawed into his skin before he had to release his wrist to open the door. "Leave." He didn't bother to look back as he entered the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Tony buried his head in his hands, leaning against the wall as his knees buckled beneath him.

"Tony…"

He recognized Pepper's voice immediately, relaxing slightly as she moved next to him. "I'm fine. I promise."

Pepper sighed. "Tony, you can't go on like this. You have to tell them about what happened."

Tony lowered his hands from his face, staring at his fiancée with empty eyes. "The only thing I have to do, Pep, is bring Peter back." He clenched his fists. "That's the only thing."

xXxXxXx

"Shit!" Tony hissed through his teeth as coffee splashed out of the pot and scalded the top of his hand. "Damn it!" He quickly turned the sink on, running cool water over his skin to ease the stinging.

"Maybe that's a sign," Steve suggested, leaning against the counter a few feet away from him. "You've had at least seven cups today alone, Tony."

"What's it to you?" Tony muttered, drying his hand before sipping some of his coffee, ignoring how it burned his tongue. "You need me awake."

"You may be awake but you're barely conscious," was Steve's dry response. "You're no good to us if you can barely function."

"Exactly," Tony said. "That means I'm no good to you when I'm sleeping, either."

"Actually, Steve has a point," Natasha said as she joined the two in the kitchen, Pepper a few steps behind her. "You need to get some sleep."

"I've been getting plenty of sleep," Tony scoffed. "Right, Pepper?"

His fiancée rolled her eyes. "Tony, I'm not going to defend you on this one."

"Boss has been getting a maximum number of three hours of sleep every night," FRIDAY reported from his glasses. "A minimum of none, and an average of two."

"Goddamn, FRIDAY," Tony muttered, downing the rest of his coffee. "You didn't need to tell them all that."

Natasha frowned at the AI's comments. "Why haven't you been sleeping, Tony?"

"Nightmares," FRIDAY responded. "About what occurred on Titan, when he went to space."

Tony stiffened, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. "Someone wants their software shut down, don't they?"

"It is for your own good, sir."

"Nightmares?" Steve repeated. "What happened on Titan that would cause nightmares, Tony? You told us that you were alone with Thanos up there."

"Except for the girl," Bruce said. "The blue girl. The one who was mostly machine. Nebula, or something?"

"Oh, now everyone's in here," Tony grumbled. He hadn't even noticed that the scientist had showed up. "Guess it's a party."

"Well, not everyone," Bruce replied. "Rhodey's doing physical therapy, I think."

"Is there something you'd like to tell us, Tony?" Steve demanded.

Tony didn't appreciate the man's tone of accusation. "Not really, if I'm honest. I'm quite content with keeping it all to myself."

Pepper sighed, crossing through the kitchen and stopping at his side. "Tony, maybe it's time."

"You _have_ been acting strange lately," Natasha said, the corners of her lips dipping down. "Yesterday, you virtually had a panic attack when I showed you an empty box. I know you've been through a lot, Tony, but that seemed to be a stretch even for you."

Pepper laced her fingers through Tony's, gently rubbing her thumb in circles on the top of his hand as a means of comfort.

It helped. His fiancée truly was a gift.

"That box wasn't empty," he muttered, staring down at the inside of his coffee cup like it was going to somehow refill itself.

"Apologies," Natasha said, her voice oozing with false sincerity. "It had dust and spiderwebs in it. My mistake."

Tony's grip tightened on Pepper's hand, but he managed to keep a cool exterior. "It doesn't matter, Agent Romanoff. My business is my business."

"I think we deserve to know the truth," Steve countered, crossing his arms over his chest and that look of suspicion Tony hated so much dancing in his narrowed eyes. "We can't keep secrets from each other."

Tony laughed, though there was no humor behind it. "Not keeping secrets?" He glared at the super soldier. "You're one to talk, Captain."

The two stared each other down, but in the end Steve cracked first.

"You're right," he muttered. "I was wrong then." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. "So don't make my mistake, Tony."

"What mistake?" Bruce said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Doesn't matter," Tony replied darkly. He glanced at Pepper, silently asking for her approval. She nodded, and he sighed. "I wasn't alone on Titan. There were five others with me, excluding Thanos and the girl."

"Did they…" Bruce gestured vaguely with his hand. "You know."

Tony laughed bitterly. "Did they disappear? Yeah. They did."

Steve frowned. "I don't understand. Did you know them personally?"

Tony shrugged. "Not exactly. But near death situations can get you pretty close to someone." He placed his cup on the counter, sighing. "Peter Quill. Originally from Earth but somehow ended up in space for a majority of his life. Asshole, but not as stupid as he looks. Drax the Destroyer. Associate of Quill. Thanos ordered the mass murder of half of his planet, which included his wife and daughter. Does not understand metaphors whatsoever. Mantis. Another associate of Quill." His nose wrinkled as he tried to come up with an adequate description of the girl. "Weird bug lady. Some kind of empathic powers. They said they knew Thor."

"Like that racoon," Bruce added. "The talking one. And the talking tree."

"Well, that's three people," Natasha said, ignoring the scientist and crossing her arms over her chest. "But I highly doubt _their_ disappearances would impact you enough to have nightmares."

"What, you don't think I'm sensitive?" God, Tony would have killed for a glass of brandy right then. But he couldn't allow himself to fall back into that cycle.

"Who were the other two?" Steve asked.

"Well, Stephen Strange was one. Complete douchebag." Tony gestured towards Bruce. "You remember him, right? Wizard guy. Sentient cloak, funky necklace, magic powers."

Bruce gaped. " _He_ was with you?!"

Tony shrugged. "Hell, he was the reason we went to space. He had an Infinity Stone on him, and we had to rescue him so Thanos wouldn't be able to get to it." He sighed. "Not that we succeeded."

Steve frowned. "Who's 'we,' Tony?"

"Who was the fifth person you were with?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised.

Tony stared at the ground, squeezing Pepper's hand so tightly it had to hurt and yet she still didn't let go. "Do you remember Spider-Man?"

"Spider-Man?" Steve repeated. "The one you brought to Germany?"

Tony nodded. "The one and the same."

"Why was he with you?" Natasha demanded. "I thought you recruited him for Germany and Germany only, Tony."

"Yeah, well…" Tony shrugged. "Plans change." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in a few commands before a hologram was projected from it. Something akin to a slideshow started to play, full of pictures of him and Peter, as well as a few shots of the kid as Spider-Man. "I liked the kid. He became my personal intern at Stark Industries. We worked on the suits, mostly. He was in the area the day of the attack, and followed me and the wizard into space."

"Tony." Steve's voice was ice cold. "You recruited a _child_." He shook his head in disbelief. "A child that could have been killed. In Germany, as Spider-Man, and in space. For nothing but your own personal gain." He glared at him. "Do you realize that?"

Tony stiffened. Of course he knew that. "Germany was not my proudest moment, Captain. I'll be the first to admit it. But the kid -"

"What did you even _do_ to him?" Steve interrupted, blue eyes blazing with anger. "Did you switch from testing on robots to testing on humans, Tony? Is he a failed science experiment? A pet you keep around for your amusement?"

Tony couldn't make eye contact with the man. His chest was tight, and it was as if his voice was trapped inside him.

"Steve, that's enough," Natasha said, her tone laced with venom. "I admit, I didn't know Spider-Man was a kid when he was recruited, but Tony did _not_ experiment on him. I can't believe you'd even suggest that."

"Good," Steve snapped, glaring at Tony. "If you had, I would kill you right here, right now."

Tony could sense anger boiling in Pepper as her hand not holding his clenched into a fist, but he shook his head, casting her a look that read 'back down.' He deserved this. He'd let the kid die.

"I cannot believe you," Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair. "A child. What, did you keep him around because he was Spider-Man? His freaky powers were of some sort of interest to you?"

"Steve, you know you don't mean that," Bruce tried to say, but he was ignored.

"And then you brought him to _space_ ," Steve continued. "From the looks of it, he didn't come home with you, did he, Tony? How does that feel? To be responsible for the death of a child?"

"That's it," Pepper muttered, her blue eyes steely as she walked up to the blonde. She was already a tall woman, and her heels put her almost at Steve's height. She stared him down, and for a moment, Captain America faltered.

The room was dead silent. Until she slapped him right across the face.

"Bullshit," she snarled, glaring at Steve with more anger than Tony had ever seen her possess. "You don't have a single clue about anything that has gone on with us over this past year, so get off your high horse and stop acting like you _do_."

Steve gaped. Apparently it was also the first time _he'd_ ever seen Tony's fiancée so enraged.

"If you were _actually_ trying to be logical here, you acknowledge your errors in dealing with the Accords," she continued. "Yes, everyone made poor decisions, but you, Steve Rogers didn't even have the decency to _admit_ yours. Instead, you ran away, leaving Tony to clean up the mess behind you, just like he does every. Single. Time." Pepper paused, clearly attempting to calm herself down. "Anyways, about Peter. Or Spider-Man, if you prefer. For one, he was out fighting crime long before Tony ever met him, and continued to do so after Germany. Would you like to know what that child was wearing before Tony gave him an upgraded suit with hundreds of built-in safety features, plus a tracker that allowed Tony to keep an eye on him?"

Pepper's eyes flashed dangerously, and Steve hesitated before offering her a brief nod.

"A _sweatshirt_. I believe it's safe to conclude that Tony stepping in and giving him a new suit was a _good_ thing." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now, what was it you said? 'A pet you keep around for your amusement?'" She gestured to Tony's phone, which was still going through the hundreds of photos of Peter. "Right. 'Amusement.' Because apparently you believe Tony Stark is incapable of feeling love."

As Steve turned to look at the hologram, the photo changed to the one Tony had set as his background - him and Peter just after they'd dyed their hair together. Seeing it made Tony's body stiffen up again as the memories swirled around him. Fortunately, he was torn out of them by Pepper's voice before he could be overwhelmed.

"Tony has spent so much time with Peter that he's listed as an emergency contact at the kid's school," Pepper snapped. "He helps him with his homework, and I swear that they're always off tinkering in the lab together. How _dare_ you call Peter a 'source of amusement!'" His fiancée was seething, and Tony knew she wasn't done yet. "Now, I cannot be the one to tell you exactly what happened on Titan. But I _do_ know that Tony did _not_ bring Peter into space with him. Peter _followed_ him because he _cares_ about Tony." She glared at Steve. "Unlike some people I could mention, who prefer to leave their friends for dead."

Tony's breath hitched at the mention of Siberia, and he didn't miss the color draining from Steve's face. "Thanks, Pepper," he said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his fiancée's shoulders after turning off his phone, the image of him and Peter vanishing. "I think he gets it now."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

"What he's trying to say is that he was wrong," Natasha said. "He misjudged you. So did I."

Tony shrugged, trying to pretend it meant nothing to him. Part of him genuinely didn't mind - he was used to hateful accusations from the press every other day. "I can understand why."

Steve sighed. "Maybe looking after Spider-Man was a good thing for you to do. But I still don't think you should have brought him into anything in the first place."

Tony stared at the ground. "Yeah. I agree with you there."

Silence fell over the room, and Bruce was the one to break it, awkwardly wringing his hands as he did so. "Tony… What happened on Titan?"

Tony took in a shaky breath. He couldn't just walk out of this one. "We fought Thanos. We were so close to getting the gauntlet off of him, but something snapped in Quill. I think Thanos killed his girlfriend or something. In the end, Thanos overpowered us." He shook his head, laughing bitterly. "I faced off with him for about five minutes on my own. No backup. I fought with everything I had… And all I was able to do was put a scratch on his face." His hand immediately drifted to his side, rubbing the spot where his wound was yet to heal. "He decided to return the favor by stabbing me. He _was_ going to kill me, but…"

He trailed off, guilt rising in his chest. Pepper stepped closer to him, her presence more comforting to him than anything else at that moment.

"Strange gave up the Time Stone. In exchange for my life." Tony clenched his fist. "I don't know why. My life isn't worth half of the universe. But he did." He shrugged helplessly. "Thanos disappeared after that. And only a few minutes later everyone started crumbling. Strange said something about it 'being the only way.'" He exhaled a shuddering breath. "He turned to dust. All of them did. It was fast. Maybe three seconds. But…"

"Oh my God," Natasha murmured. "Don't tell me…"

Tony sighed as an excuse not to speak, knowing his voice would crack if he tried to do so right away. "Peter… Withstood it, somehow. Maybe thirty seconds. He was fighting it, and…" He cursed as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "He was begging me to save him. And I couldn't _do_ anything except hold him and watch as he crumbled away in my arms." He stared down at his hands, able to visualize Peter fading away into nothingness all too well. "You're right, Steve. I'm responsible for his death. Which is why I am going to do _everything_ in my power to bring him back. No matter what it takes."

Steve hesitated. "I see."

Tony moved away from the group, refilling his cup of coffee before making his way to the exit, pausing in the threshold of the doorway. "If you need me, you know where I'll be."

And then he was gone.

xXxXxXx

"Are you _certain_ the stone was glowing, Tony?" Bruce said, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he examined a paper covered in complex formulas. "Because if you're right…"

Tony frowned and quickly changed a number on the paper of his own that was similarly covered with assorted mathematical equations. "I remember everything that happened on Titan, Bruce. I'll never be able to forget." He knew Titan was still a difficult thing to discuss - for himself because of the experience, and for everyone else because it had only been cleared up a few days ago - but Bruce had quickly fallen into the category Tony was willing to talk to. Along with Pepper and Rhodey, of course.

"Then that means the stone was activated, somehow," Bruce replied. "Based on everything you've said and everything I know about the Infinity Stones from working on and with Vision, I doubt it was because of Strange summoning it - there had to be another factor."

"And once we know that factor, we may find a loophole in Thanos's plan," Tony continued. "Or, if my hypothesis is correct, we may even find a loophole in time."

He and Bruce had been researching extensively anything they could find about the Infinity Stones - the Time Stone in particular - ever since Tony had offhandedly mentioned that the stone had been glowing as Strange handed it over to Thanos. Of course, it was more him and Bruce calculating while Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, and Natasha did a majority of the research for them. Even Thor, Rocket, and the Nebula girl helped out where they could.

No one was complaining, however. There was no time to complain when there was even a sliver of a chance that they would be able to bring half of the universe back to life.

"Wait a minute…" Tony murmured, his pencil pausing over his paper. "Holy shit. Bruce, I think I've figured it out."

The scientist immediately dropped what he was working on, moving next to Tony's side in a flash.

"If all the information we've gathered is correct," Tony said slowly, gesturing the seemingly endless amount of bulleted lists he had next to him, "and if the formula I've worked out is as accurate as I can get considering that it's regarding a magical object…" He shook his head in disbelief. "We might have a lead on our hands."

"It looks accurate to me," Bruce said after he carefully examined the equation. Fresh eyes were the best way to spot errors. "What else have you got?"

"Well, we know the stones only glow when they're being used," Tony began. "Or at least have been used recently, anyways. Based on the capabilities we know the Time Stone has compared to the skills of the other Infinity Stones, I think it's possible that the Time Stone can travel through time."

Bruce's eyes widened. "And based on your formula, you think Strange sent it into the future?"

Tony smirked, feeling more energized than he had in weeks. "Ding ding ding, we have a winner." Then he sighed. "Unfortunately, even if my theory is correct, I believe Strange was only able to send it into the future for a month."

Bruce winced. "And it's almost been a month, hasn't it?"

"Exactly. And we have no way of accessing the Time Stone, because Strange a) had no way of knowing that we'd be in Wakanda and b) may not have even thought to send it to a dimension where we _could_ access it. And even beyond that, we have no means of manipulating the stone, because last I checked, we were not wizards."

Bruce frowned, biting his lip. "You know, Tony, I think I might know a guy who'll be able to help us. Assuming he's still around after the snap."

Tony's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

Bruce sighed, frustration painting his features. "I can't remember his name. He was the other wizard in New York, remember? He saved my life." He paused before adding, "I think you invited him to your and Pepper's wedding, actually."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Right! I know who you're talking about." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it, what was his name?"

"I have run a facial recognition scan on the footage from the time before you journeyed to space, sir," FRIDAY said from his glasses, which were lying on the table beside his paperwork. "The man who assisted you in your fight against the Black Order is named Wong. According to the intel I've managed to collect, he is still alive and continues to guard the New York Sanctum at 177A Bleecker Street."

Tony clapped his hands together. "FRIDAY, you are utter perfection."

"Does this make up for my forcing you to reveal to the others what happened on Titan?"

"If Wong is able to help us, FRI, then we're more than even." He stood from his chair, putting the glasses on before heading towards the exit of the lab, gesturing for Bruce to follow him. "Let's go. We've got a trip to New York to make."

xXxXxXx

"Manipulating the Time Stone is risky," Wong said, glancing at the green Infinity Stone hovering in front of him. It had taken much convincing from Tony and the others, but he'd managed to pull it out from wherever Strange had sent it to - the Mirror Dimension, or something like that. "A sorcerer's job is to defend the natural law, not alter it."

"If memory serves, your job is also to protect our reality," Tony pointed out, eyebrow raised. "I think returning the universe to its natural state falls within that category."

"This is the only chance we may have to fix everything," Steve added. "Please. Allow us to do so."

Wong sighed. "Fine. I do not believe I have a choice in the matter, anyways." He made a strange symbol with his hands, and soon his arms were glowing green in ancient runes. He met each of their gazes, one by one. "Do not fail, Earth's Mightiest Heroes."

Then everything went black.

xXxXxXx

Tony was back on Titan. Just as before, the planet was covered in rocky soil and the skies were tinted with a brilliant shade of orange. However, this time, he was alone.

"I suppose now we must wait."

Not entirely alone, apparently. He turned around to see Nebula, who was staring at the ruins of the spaceship he and Peter had crashed when they'd first landed. "Why? Is there really no way for us to impact anything?"

"I did not say that," Nebula replied simply. "But I suspect that because Earth was where Thanos successfully gained the last Infinity Stone he needed, that is where he must die."

"Then why isn't everyone currently _here_?" Tony demanded. "We've gone back in time. They haven't disappeared yet."

Nebula shrugged. "I am no wizard, Stark. I do not understand the ways of time travel." She glanced down at him. "While we wait, I suggest you seal your wound."

Tony looked at his side, and sure enough, the stab wound Thanos had been kind enough to give to him had reopened. "Huh," he muttered, wincing in pain as he sealed it with his suit. "I didn't even notice."

"You may not have until someone pointed it out," Nebula suggested. "However, I am not keen on the idea of you bleeding to death." She stared at him, and her piercing gaze admittedly made Tony feel somewhat uneasy. "You play an important role, Stark. Here, on Earth, everywhere. Your decisions are life-altering."

"Well, that's not a lot of pressure," he grumbled, although he was confused as to what she was referring to. "What are you talking about, again?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I should not have said anything in the first place."

Tony raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but didn't comment. Silence fell over them, and he found his thoughts drifting back to Peter. He had never been one to pray, but he sure as hell - heaven? - was praying then that the others would succeed on Earth so Peter could return.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, not caring that it was coated in dried blood and dust from the planet. If they failed today… God, he didn't know what he'd do. Living in a pit of depression for the rest of his life seemed likely.

And if they _did_ succeed… Tony didn't know what he'd do then, either. Never let Peter out of his sight? Push the kid away so nothing like this would ever happen to him again? Hold him even closer than before so he could protect him from anything that could possibly harm him?

None of them seemed right.

Tony was distracted from his thoughts by a cloud of dust swirling next to Nebula - dust that formed into the petite body of a girl he recognized as Mantis. Her eyes were wide as she observed the world around her.

Finally, she breathed a deep sigh of relief. "You did it."

Nebula raised a brow at her comment. "You remember what happened?"

Tony bit back a sharp breath. He didn't want Peter to remember. It wasn't fair for the kid to have his own death as a memory.

Mantis frowned. "Not exactly. Much of it is… Unclear." Her antennae glowed on her head. "But I am an empath. I felt pain in… Wherever we had been taken to." She shuddered. "So much pain. From so many people." She offered them a tiny smile. "But I can sense your relief now. You have succeeded. I do not know how you did it, but I am grateful that you did."

"Did it hurt?" Tony asked after a pause. "When you disappeared? Did you feel it?"

Mantis slowly shook her head. "No… I did not." She stared at him sadly. "I know why you ask. The boy. You are concerned he felt it."

Tony blinked, shocked but not surprised that she'd managed to read him so easily. "Yes."

"I do not know whether he felt it or not," Mantis replied. "That is something you will have to ask him for yourself." She tilted her head to the side. "But perhaps you already know… Right?"

Tony didn't want to think about how Peter must have felt, every atom in his body tearing itself apart and crumbling to ashes. "No," he said tightly. "I don't know. But thank you for trying to help."

Mantis looked as if she wanted to say more, but another cloud of dust started collecting, larger than hers had been, and materialized into Drax.

He blinked in surprise, staring down at his body, as if he wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Then he burst out into booming laughter. "I have returned from the dead!"

Mantis giggled at his behavior, but neither Tony nor Nebula was sure of how to react. They were saved from doing so, however, as another cloud of dust swirled around before turning into the body of Peter Quill.

"Gamora," he gasped, spinning on his heel and searching desperately for something - or someone - around him. "Where the hell is Gamora?!"

Nebula stiffened at his words. "You saw my sister, Quill?"

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "Yes. She was there! In wherever we were." He bit back what Tony suspected would have been a scream of frustration. "Damn it!"

"She will return."

Tony turned around to see the one and only Stephen Strange standing behind him.

"We were in the Soul Stone," Stephen said, crossing his arms over his chest, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the weird necklace he wore that Tony had a feeling once again contained the Time Stone within it. "At least, that is where I believe we were." He gestured to the ground beneath him. "Since we have been brought back to Titan, I can only assume the snap has been reversed. If so, Quill, then Gamora should return from the Soul Stone as well."

Tony noticed that Quill didn't seemed entirely convinced, but his shoulders did relax. "Fine. I'm trusting you, Dr. Weirdo."

"It's Dr. Strange."

"Same difference."

Tony lost interest as the two started squabbling, instead looking around him for another cloud of dust to form. But nothing was happening. The air was still, and the earth remained settled.

His chest was tight, and he knew he was going to hyperventilate and possibly have a panic attack if he didn't regain control of himself soon. He tried to steady his breathing, but the thought of Peter not returning wasn't helping in the slightest.

Then a hand was placed on his shoulder, and immense calm seemed to wash over him.

"Relax," Mantis murmured.

Tony did relax. He felt unbelievably serene, although anxiety was still nagging at the back of his mind.

"Don't remove your hand," Stephen instructed to Mantis, stepping forward and looking Tony dead in the eyes. "Stark. Your… Ward, or whomever he is, is going to return. But panicking will do you no good. Understand?"

Tony nodded, then frowned. "He's not my ward." The ghost of a smile dusted his lips. "He's my kid."

"I'm your kid, Mr. Stark?"

Time seemed to slow, and Tony's eyes widened as he had to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming - or worse, reliving another nightmare. He was awake, which meant… Oh God. He slowly turned around to see Peter Parker staring at him only a few feet away, a goofy smile dancing on his kid's lips.

There was an awkward pause, as neither of them knew what to do. Peter took a hesitant step forward, and that was all Tony needed before he practically ran over to him and pulled the kid into the tightest hug he'd ever given, not even bothering to hide the tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Peter returned the hug so tightly Tony was slightly concerned his back might snap in half, and briefly debated whether or not to tell the boy to squeeze him a _little_ less, but when he heard the sobs of relief escaping Peter's lips, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"M-Mr. Stark?" Peter sniffled, his face buried in Tony's shoulders. "I take it we're there now?"

A laugh mixed itself in with Tony's tears as he remembered the awkward 'not-hug' the two had shared after returning from Germany, and he wrapped his arms even further around Peter. "Yeah, kid. We're there now."

There had been a hundred things Tony had planned to say, apologies, explanations, and more, but in that moment, he didn't have to. Just having Peter back and in his arms was in enough.

"I missed you, kid."

Peter pulled back slightly, but didn't release Tony. He offered the man a small smile, which looked admittedly strange in contrast with his tear-stained cheeks. "I missed you, too, old man."

Tony mock-frowned at the kid, then laughed to the point more tears started to flow. "Peter Parker, you are _so_ grounded."

Peter buried his face in Tony's chest, and Tony could feel the kid's laughter shaking his body. "Okay, Mr. Stark. As long as you're grounded with me."

Tony chuckled, ruffling the kid's hair, all of the fear and tension finally starting to drain from his body. "Alright. Deal, Spider-Baby."

"Mr. Stark!"

Even the others on the planet who had simply been observing the reunion from afar laughed at Peter's indignant squawk.

Sure, he might have been thousands of miles from Earth and surrounded by a group that had to be some of the biggest idiots in the galaxy, but Tony had Peter.

And that was enough.

xXxXxXx

 **Bonus:**

Tony hated sunsets. It wasn't a conscious decision, but ever since they'd returned from space - Peter hadn't let go of his arm the entire time during their trip back to Earth, much to his simultaneous relief and amusement -, even simply looking at the orange and pink skies reminded him of Titan. He was either filled with insurmountable rage or overwhelming nausea, depending on what else was going on around him.

He remembered finding out that Peter hated sunsets, too, and he could have sworn his heart had shattered then and there.

After returning from Titan, many people slept for days on end, Peter being one of them. Then again, Peter had _also_ chosen to sleep in an uncomfortable chair leaning up against the wall in the MedBay, because he hadn't wanted to leave Tony while he was in the hospital.

Tony had tried to explain to the kid that he was mostly being treated for basic stuff - getting fluids in him, re-stitching the wound in his side, etc. - but Peter of course had ignored him and promptly passed out in one of the plastic chairs lining the wall of his hospital room.

The kid had woken up as Tony was being allowed out of the MedBay, which had a been relief to everyone, because the thought of having to wake up a superpowered teenager seemed to be a struggle not worth having.

Peter had proceeded to not leave Tony's side for the next week, the sole exception being to tackle his Aunt May in a hug, and even then he'd dragged her over to where Tony was sitting.

Aunt May had chewed the both of them out for at least a solid hour before she finally sighed and pulled both of them into a hug, saying that she was just so happy they were alive.

Tony was admittedly surprised to be included in that 'they.'

Aunt May made him promise to look after Peter while he was healing before she'd left to go back to work. After she'd gone Peter had proudly announced that his aunt was one of the most amazing people he knew, and Tony was inclined to agree.

The two of them had continued to recuperate at Stark Tower for a few days after that. Most of the others were either at the Avengers Compound or in Wakanda, but every now then he and Peter would pass someone in the halls with a bandage or cast wrapped around some part of their body.

Around two weeks after their initial return from Titan, they learned of a party Sam and Clint were planning to have at the Avengers compound. Tony had at first been very miffed that he had not been consulted in the matter, much to Peter's amusement, but he had relaxed when he learned that Pepper had taken care of it. Despite the sheer number of responsibilities she'd had to take on in such a short period of time, his fiancée still always looked and acted impeccable.

Upon realizing that Peter still made an 'ew' sound like a two-year-old whenever he and Pepper kissed, Tony had also taken it upon himself to kiss her every time the kid was around. Pepper was more than happy to comply, and Peter would always groan in response.

The party Sam and Clint were throwing was to celebrate both the return of many from battle and to honor the 'valiant sacrifices' of others who had given up their lives during the fight against Thanos. It was an all-day affair, much to Peter's excitement and to Tony's chagrin.

Of course, it was impossible for him to say no to the kid, so they decided they were going to attend the party from beginning to end.

Despite Clint's insistent attempts to separate Tony and Peter while they were there in order to sneak the kid some alcohol, both managed to make it all the way through the day while remaining a hundred percent sober. Tony hadn't had alcohol in years, and he wasn't planning to start then solely because of a little party. He was also relieved to note that Peter was entirely disinterested in alcohol, too - he knew there was no way he'd be able to handle a wasted teenager, much less one with superpowers.

The party itself was much less 'wild' than Tony feared it would be, likely because people were still recuperating and had likely also lost someone fighting against Thanos. However, it was still good fun for all, as everyone was able to mingle and check up on one another as they wandered throughout the compound.

The party was near its end when Sam and Clint took everyone outside of the compound to a nice patio Tony had added at someone's - Natasha's? - insistence. The two were joined by Steve as they tried to propose a toast.

Tony tuned out at that point. He'd heard enough of Cap's speeches to last him a lifetime. It was always the usual bullshit about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He'd never understood why - the man had fought in World War II, not the Revolutionary War. But he never questioned it.

Peter, unfortunately, seemed much more enthused about the one and only Captain America proposing a toast. "Mr. Stark! I can't see all the way back here," he complained. "Can we get closer? Please?"

Tony groaned in mock-exasperation. "You mean you're going to make me leave the comfort of air conditioning to go outside _just_ so we can hear an old man preach?"

Peter nodded resolutely, which made him chuckle.

"Alright, fine." Tony placed his hands on Peter's shoulders and started steering him through the crowd. "You know," he called to the kid, "if you weren't so tiny, Spider-Baby, we'd able to see from back there instead of having to go all the way to the front."

"Says the one who's only an inch taller than me," Peter grumbled in return.

They stopped near the front of the crowd, albeit one of the edges of it. However, Steve, Clint, and Sam were more clearly visible now, so Tony felt he'd done a decent job. "Hey, I didn't say _I_ had to be tall," he countered. "I just said _you_ did."

Peter didn't respond, and Tony figured the kid had gotten caught up in the speech. He didn't like to admit it, but Steve _was_ pretty good at grabbing the attention of a crowd. Tony was, too, of course - just in a very different way.

He glanced at his watch, seeing that it read 7:46. He looked around him, and noticed the brilliant shades of orange and pink painting the sky and washing over everyone. A wave of nausea flooded through him, but he managed to stay on his feet. He was not on Titan. He was at the Avengers Compound. Peter was alive, Peter was breathing, no one was crumbling to ashes around him.

"Mr. Stark?"

Oh God. He wasn't hearing things, was he? He wasn't ready to question his sanity to so great an extent just yet.

Although, as Tony looked down and saw a quivering Peter standing in front of him, silent tears sliding down his cheeks, he did wish for a moment that it _was_ only his imagination.

Pushing aside his own nausea and unsteadiness, he gently lifted Peter's chin to ensure they were making eye contact. "Hey," he said calmly, trying to keep his voice as smooth as possible for the kid's sake. "What's wrong, Pete? Why are you sad?"

Peter shook his head, and it was then that Tony noticed how the kid's chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate.

 _Panic attack._

Tony muttered a curse under his breath. It wasn't fair. Peter was only fifteen. But as he knew all too well, life was not fair. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, gently rubbing the kid's back in an attempt to ground him. "What is it, Pete? I can help you more if you tell me what's going on."

When Peter didn't react, instead continuing to stare blankly at him, Tony almost panicked. He was about to just drag the kid inside when slowly, very slowly, the boy shakily lifted his arm and pointed at the sunset.

"Sky," Peter croaked, fear flickering in his eyes. "Titan?"

"Shit," Tony whispered. Of course Peter would hate sunsets. He'd had his body ripped apart on a planet existing in a phase of perpetual sunset. "Okay. Okay." He pulled his kid into a tight hug, rubbing circles with his thumb into Peter's hair in an attempt to calm him down enough so they could walk inside. "Focus on my breathing, kid. Try to sync up your breaths with mine."

It seemed to work, as Peter's sniffles subsided and his body relaxed in Tony's arms as his breathing shifted from hyperventilation to slower, more even breaths.

"Alright," Tony said soothingly, gently releasing Peter. "We're going back in the compound now, okay? And we're going to go past the lab and down the hall into your room. Sound good?"

"I… I have a room?"

Tony would have laughed if it weren't for the tears still falling down his kid's face. "Of course you have a room," he said, offering Peter a small smile. "Everyone does. Yours is probably the nicest, though." He winked at him. "Only the best for my favorite Avenger."

He was pleased to note that Peter did laugh in response, counting that as a win even though the laugh was barely loud enough to be heard. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders and started moving through the crowd back towards inside, which was easier than pushing to the front because people eagerly filled in the spots he'd left open behind him.

In a matter of minutes they'd successfully made it through the compound and into Peter's room. Posters covered the walls and LEGO sets lined the floors amongst assorted other things Tony had purchased in the hopes Peter would enjoy them, but he pushed right past them and sat down on the bed, pulling his kid down next to him.

"Why don't you like sunsets, Peter?" Tony asked after a pause, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Peter shook his head, his bottom lip quivering. "It's stupid," he mumbled. "Don't worry, Mr. Stark. I can handle it myself."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." He chuckled, but his tone was tinged with bitterness. "I thought I could handle everything on my own, too, kid." He glanced at Peter, who was staring down resolutely at the floor. "But humans aren't invincible. It's okay to ask for help and to rely on other people." He hesitated, then added, "You know, Pete, I don't like sunsets either."

As soon as he admitted his own fear, Peter looked up at him, and Tony could tell that the kid's resilience was beginning to waver. Finally, he managed to say, "The color. I don't like the color."

"Okay," Tony said simply. "What about the color?"

Peter shook his head. "No, it's your turn."

Tony raised an eyebrow in response. "My turn?"

Peter nodded. "We're taking turns to explain why we don't like sunsets, Mr. Stark."

Tony almost laughed, instead managing a chuckle and ruffling the kid's hair. "Well, I'm not a fan of sunsets because of the color, either. Every time I see them I feel like I'm back on Titan, and everyone around me is crumbling to dust."

"Me too," Peter murmured, staring off into the distance, his mind clearly elsewhere. "I can see them all fading away. And then…" He shuddered, a few more silent tears falling down his face. "And then it's me. And it _hurts_ so bad, Mr. Stark!" He shook his head, trying to calm himself, but Tony could tell it wasn't working. "Every part of my body is tearing itself apart and it won't _stop_ and -" Peter interrupted himself with a strangled gasp, and Tony immediately wrapped his arms around the kid, murmuring incoherent words of comfort as he rubbed Peter's back in an attempt to calm him down.

Much to his relief, Peter did stop gasping, but the kid continued to tremble in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he whispered pitifully. "I'm sorry that I'm acting like a child."

Tony hugged him tighter in response. "Peter, for one, it's okay to act like a child because you still _are_ one." He sighed. "But this isn't childish, Pete. You're reacting to a traumatic experience. Anyone would do the same."

Peter pulled away from him, the scowl painted on his lips a stark contrast to his tear-stained cheeks. "That's not true. I don't see _you_ crying right now."

Tony frowned. "Really, kid? Really?" He sighed and shook his head. "In case you've forgotten, Mr. Parker, you've only been back for a short period of time. I've been back for _months_." He laughed bitterly. "God, Pete, I went through the five stages of grief all at once a hundred times over. Every night I'd have nightmares and end up dry heaving over the toilet for an hour. Pepper was there, and somehow she still loves me despite all of it."

Peter bit his lip, a guilty expression dancing on his features. "Mr. Stark… What were your nightmares about?"

Tony hesitated. He had a feeling the kid already knew, but Peter _had_ opened himself to him, so talking about his own fears would probably be a good precedent to set. He sighed. "Everything on Titan. Being stabbed, Thaos escaping, everyone crumbling to dust." He stared down at his arms, able to see Peter disappearing from existence far too clearly. "The worst part…"

He shuddered, trying to keep his breathing even. Panicking would do him no good, and would make a terrible impression on his kid. "Every time, Pete, I can see you disappearing in my arms. I was holding you, and you just… Faded away. I couldn't save you."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, avoiding eye contact with Peter. "And then in the dream you… Come back, I guess, and you ask me why I _didn't_ save you because I _could_ have saved you and I _should_ have saved you and then you ask if I only care about you because you're Spider-Man which of course isn't true but all the same I still ask myself what I could have done so that you might have survived that day." He took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah. I don't really like sunsets."

Silence fell, and Tony wondered if he'd said too much. Then Peter wrapped his arms around him, his enhanced strength causing Tony to wince as his back cracked before he hesitantly returned the hug.

Peter buried his face in Tony's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, Mr. Stark. There wasn't anything you could have done." He pulled back and offered the older man a warm - if watery - smile. "Besides, you brought me back now, right?"

Tony sighed. "But if I'd just worked _harder_ -"

"No," Peter interrupted. "Mr. Stark, you can't blame yourself! Dr. Strange said that we would only win in one future out of fourteen million, and _that's_ the one we're in now. There wasn't any other way."

Tony's fist was clenched. "It's just not fair, Pete. You shouldn't have had to _die_. And the fact that you could _feel_ it and no one else could…" He shuddered. "God, Pete. I'm so sorry."

Peter flinched at the memory, then bit his lip. "Well, no one's come out of this unscathed." He offered Tony a small smile. "I think it's something we'll have work through together." He faltered. "Right?"

Tony managed a chuckle as he ruffled his kid's hair. "Right." He glanced at his watch, wanting to change the subject. There was only so much 'emotional talk' he could handle in one day. "You know, this party has been going on for a while. Would you rather we kick everyone out of the compound - I do own the place, after all - or should we go back to the tower? Either way is fine with me."

Peter laughed, and relief flooded through Tony's body at the sound. "I think it'd be a little mean to kick everyone out, Mr. Stark."

"Tower it is, then," Tony said, clapping his hands together before rising from the bed. "I say we watch a movie. Any preferences?"

Peter jumped to his feet, bouncing on his heels as his eyes sparkled. "We're gonna watch the best superhero movie of all time."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I feel like we've had this conversation before. Are we going to watch the third biopic about my life?"

Peter's jaw dropped. "There's a _third_ one?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah." He smirked at the kid. "What, do you not have three biopics about you yet, Underoos?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "No, Mr. Stark. I'm afraid I don't."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "It's not all it's hyped up to be." He placed his arm around Peter's shoulders as they left the room, the lights automatically shutting off behind them. "So what's 'the best superhero movie of all time,' as you put it, that you want to watch so badly?"

Peter beamed at him. "The Incredibles!" Then he pouted. "It's too bad that it'll probably never get a sequel."

"Well…" Tony winked at him. "I'm sure I can make a few calls, if you'd like."

Peter's eyes widened. "Mr. Stark, you're the best person in the whole world!"

"Nah, kid." Tony smiled warmly at him. "That would be you."

xXxXxXx

 **I completely agree with Peter that The Incredibles is the best superhero movie of all time. It's canon, sorry not sorry. If you have any prompt suggestions, please feel free to let me know! Thank you so much for reading, and I encourage you to stick around for more. :)**


	4. The Art of Dealing with Tony Stark

**Let me just say that I treasure each and every one of you who has followed, favorited, and reviewed more than I can say - your support keeps me going! This oneshot is actually longer than the last, but that's because I ended up combining three different prompts (and hopefully I did a decent job with that in itself).**

 **Prompt (suggested by Uia on FanFiction):** _Pepper and Pete cook breakfast together or some activity where the two get closer like Tony/Pete are._

 **Prompt (suggested by The RealMasonMac on FanFiction):** _How about Tony, Peter, everything in his suit, and Karen?_

 **Prompt (suggested by Kim on FanFiction):** _I was thinking maybe that for a prompt Pepper gets angry (but not too angry lol) at Tony for something and as punishment she "takes away" Peter for a day (or however long you want), i.e., she has Peter be her assistant/or work for her in some way. Peter doesn't know anything is wrong, he just thinks it's really cool that Pepper wants him to work with her and is loving life experiencing something new meanwhile behind the scenes Tony is a really depressed and emo dad lol and subtly is trying to get him back by either duping Peter or almost-groveling to Pepper bc he sees that Peter is so happy working for Pepper and doesn't want to be the cause of ending that happiness._

 **As aforementioned, I tried to combine these prompts, so the end result is essentially Pepper and Peter bonding along with some scenes starring the one and only Karen (and of course classic Iron Dad and Spider Son). I apologize if it's not 100% like what you may have envisioned, but I always kind of go with the flow when I write, and this is how it turned out, lol.**

 **Note:** I think I used three words of Spanish in the story; I apologize if they don't accurately translate. Also, Pepper has a moment where she goes off about the Avengers a bit; this was not me ranting about them, but it was more me trying to write from the perspective of how a regular human would feel living in the world of the MCU.

 **Thank you for suggesting, and I hope you all enjoy!**

xXxXxXx

"Mr. Stark, please!" Peter begged. "I haven't been out as Spider-Man _once_ the entire time I've been staying with you."

"And that's because Queens is thirty minutes away by _car_ , Underoos," Tony retorted, rolling his eyes. "What, are you going to fly there?"

"I mean, yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "I can get there in less than fifteen minutes by webslinging, Mr. Stark." He'd been arguing with the older man for what felt like years but in reality was probably no longer than thirty minutes.

"What happens if you hurt, huh?" Tony demanded. "What if I don't get there quickly enough to save you, Pete?" He glared at the teen. "You think I'll be able to keep living with that on my conscious?"

Peter sighed. "Mr. Stark, your concerns are totally valid but also super exaggerated!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "For one, I'm not exactly inexperienced, Mr. Stark. I've been working as Spider-Man for over a year now." He held up a hand to stop Tony from speaking. "Even if you put aside the fact that I've never received official training, I know Queens better than I know myself. Every corner in every dirty alley."

"I don't even want to know why you're so familiar with dirty alleys."

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony ignored the squawk of protest and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, silently acknowledging the kid's point.

Peter decided to take that as a positive and continued. "Second, I feel like it's finally time I test out all of those new updates we added to my suit! There's no way to _actually_ know how effective they are until I use them in action."

Tony sighed but again didn't comment. Peter thought their conversation had taken a remarkable turn for the better.

"And third," he said, "I can't just _abandon_ Queens. It's my job to protect the city and the people who live there!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "If you aren't paid, Underoos, it's not a job."

"Okay, fine. Protecting Queens and her citizens is my _responsibility_ ," Peter amended. "Either way, Mr. Stark, it's something I _have_ to do. So please, _please_ let me go down to Queens for a bit!"

Tony sighed, running a hand through his red and brown hair as he waged an internal war with himself. Finally, he threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. You can go to Queens."

"Yes!" Peter cheered, pumping his fist in celebration.

Tony held up a finger to stop him. "Ah ah ah, I wasn't finished, Underoos. You can go to Queens - _if_ you agree to my conditions."

"Please don't make me wear those hot pink Hello Kitty pants again," Peter begged, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "I'm not sure my pride can take another blow like that."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed. "Those pants are an absolute luxury - you know this and you love them." He smirked at the kid. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you still keep them in your drawer, Spiderling. I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be," was Peter's muttered response. "I'm trying to sell them on eBay." That, of course, was a lie - Peter would never admit it but he'd become rather fond of those Hello Kitty pants. _After_ he'd somewhat worked through the trauma associated with his suit being taken away, a building falling on him, and a plane crashing with him still on it, that was. At the end of the day, they were a gift from Mr. Stark, and he loved them solely because of that.

"What?!" Tony sputtered. "Peter Parker, how dare you -"

"Moving on," Peter interrupted, snickering. "What are the conditions I have to agree to, Mr. Stark?" He could have sworn the man grumbled something about 'not selling Hello Kitty' under his breath, but he wasn't sure.

Tony sighed. "Alright, kid. Here's what you have to do. Rule One: do not throw yourself into overly dangerous situations. Your suit is neither bulletproof or knife proof. In other words, do not show up at my doorstep bleeding on everything."

Peter nodded. That rule was easy enough to follow. All he had to do was make sure he didn't injure himself - simple. And even if he _did_ happen to get hurt, then he just had to heal up before getting back. Also not a problem.

"Rule Two," Tony continued, "takes into account the fact that I know you are going to blatantly ignore Rule One." He raised an eyebrow at the kid. "Am I correct?"

Peter flushed a shade of red almost as deep as the color in his hair. "Uh… Not exactly?"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought." Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, Rule Two is that if - or when, what with your habits - you end up in some sort of dangerous situation, you contact me. Understand?"

"But I don't want to bother you for something little like that, Mr. Stark!" Peter protested. "I can handle myself. Plus, I don't want to accidentally distract you from anything important."

Tony rolled his eyes. " _You_ are important, kid. Now either you agree to the rule or you don't go."

Peter bit his lip. He'd never forgive himself if he interrupted some crucial scientific breakthrough, but if agreeing to the rule meant he'd get to go to Queens, then agree he would. "Fine."

"Excellent," Tony said. "Last but not least is Rule Three: be back before curfew."

Peter frowned. "I have a curfew?"

"You do now." Tony glanced at his watch. "It's a little past seven, so… Be back before ten, got it?"

An indignant squawk escaped Peter's lips. "Mr. Stark! That's not even a full three hours in Queens! And taking into account the amount of time it'll take me to travel there and back, it's barely two and half hours." He gave the man his best puppy dog eyes. "What about midnight?"

"Eleven," Tony said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Take it or leave it, Underoos."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Fine." At least eleven o'clock was better than ten. Maybe he'd _actually_ have a chance to fight some crime now.

"I'm pretty sure those are the only rules I was able to think of earlier before I got distracted by Dum-E in the lab," Tony continued. "And if you don't follow them, there are going to be severe consequences. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled, itching to get out of the tower and swing over - literally - to Queens. He could practically feel the air rushing past his face already.

"Alright," Tony said, apparently satisfied with his attempt at 'parenting.' "You can go. Say hi to Karen for me."

Peter wasted no time running up the stairs to his bedroom, hastily changing into the suit thrown out across his bed, nearly tripping over his feet as the fabric got tangled around his legs. A minute later, however, he was ready, and he pressed the small spider on the front, tightening the suit around him.

"Hello, Peter." Karen's warm voice greeted him loud enough to hear but quiet enough as to not put him into sensory overdrive. He'd never admit it to the man's face, but Mr. Stark really had thought of everything. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Excited to be back out, Karen. What about you?" Peter moved to the balcony in his room, calculating the best place to swing from the wall of the tower to one of the buildings around it. Once he managed to do that, it'd be easy enough to get to Queens.

"I have spent much of my time speaking with FRIDAY, but it is nice to hear your voice again," Karen replied. "I recommend dropping down to the next level before you swing, and if you don't mind my saying this, aim for better than a ninety degree angle this time."

Peter groaned. "I wish you'd stop reminding me of that."

"I apologize, Peter. Mr. Stark has programmed me to remind you of the event until, quote, 'it bores him.'"

"Were you at least able to erase the footage?" He was sure that she hadn't, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"No, but thanks to assistance from FRIDAY, Mr. Stark is unable to share the video or otherwise show it to anyone unless they are in his lab using a very particular projection screen," Karen replied. If the AI could smirk, Peter had a feeling that was exactly what she would have been doing.

"You guys are the best," Peter said. "Thank FRIDAY for me, will you, Karen?"

"Certainly, Peter."

While she was doing that, Peter carefully climbed out over the edge of his balcony and dropped down to the level beneath him. He'd done it a few times before, though never as Spider-Man. He honestly had no idea whose room it was, but he suspected it was for one of the rogue Avengers, because whomever it belonged to was never there when he needed to 'borrow' the balcony.

"Message sent," Karen said. "I will notify you if she sends a response back."

"Awesome." Peter frowned as he examined the city of Manhattan around him, trying to work out the best route to Queens. Finally, he gave up. He'd never been good with long-term directions. "Karen, can you tell me the quickest way to get to Queens from here?"

"I assume you'd like to go to a hotspot for crime?" Karen hummed.

Peter laughed. "To be fair, Karen, any place in New York after seven o'clock is a hotspot for crime. But yes, I would appreciate that."

"Of course, Peter."

Seconds later she'd pulled up a map for him, and he transferred the data to a projector in his wrist, creating a hologram in front of him with a bright red line detailing the best way to go.

"I trust this is an acceptable route for you?"

"If it's from you, Karen, I'm sure it's perfect." Peter stepped up onto the edge of the balcony, steadying himself before jumping off and free-falling toward the ground, then shooting out a web midway and using his momentum to continue swinging from building to building.

"Would you like me to convert the wavelength of the police scanner to one that corresponds with your suit, Peter?" Karen asked. "Another option would be for me to summarize reports of crime in the area we are headed for."

Peter waved at a mother and her three kids, happiness blooming in his chest when he heard their excited squeals and a warm smile dancing on the mother's lips as weariness seemed to fade at least partially from her eyes. He couldn't look too long, however, as seconds later he was swinging to the next building. "I think a summary would be best." The last time Karen had converted the police scanner for him, he'd been so excited that he'd reenacted a scene from the Incredibles, which had ultimately led to him tripping over his own feet and nearly falling off a building.

He'd allowed Karen to save that footage; he knew once his initial humiliation wore off, it'd be fantastic to watch. Then again, it had been two months already and his humiliation _still_ hadn't yet worn off.

"Certainly, Peter." There was a brief pause before she continued. "The streets appear to be relatively quiet as of right now, but according to statistics I'm processing, this may change after ten or eleven o'clock."

Peter groaned mid-flip as he swung through the air. "Most of the action is going to pick up _after_ my curfew! Ugh."

"My apologies, Peter. I did not take your time restrictions into account," Karen said. "However, I believe the 'action,' as you put it, will still occur in numerous amounts before eleven o'clock. Once you are required to return to the tower, Peter, should I send out a notification to local police about any crime occurring in the Queens vicinity?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Peter paused in his swinging as a faint sound reached his ears, landing on the top of some office building with less grace than he would have liked. "Do you hear that, Karen?"

"Hear what, Peter?" his AI asked, her voice almost curious despite the fact she was not a person and could not express emotion.

"I think it was someone screaming for help," he muttered, eyes narrowing as his suit started focusing on one section of the city at a time. "Sounded like a woman, though I'm not a hundred percent sure."

"Scanning area," Karen reported, and moments later a section at the corner of his vision was highlighted and magnified. "Detected screaming and repetitive pleading from a woman, likely of Latina descent."

"Is someone attacking her?"

"My range for the scan is limited and almost did not extend over the victim, so I am unsure."

Peter nodded. "Okay. As we get closer, Karen, scan again and see if you can pick up someone or something that might be harming her. Okay?"

"Understood, Peter."

Peter readied himself, then jumped off the building, swinging quickly from place to place, focusing solely on the girl's screams. "Karen, are we even in Queens yet?"

"The woman you are tracking is on the outskirts of Manhattan and Queens," Karen replied.

Peter nodded almost imperceptibly as he flew through the air, ignoring the shock that jolted through his bones as his next web didn't catch quite as high up as he needed it to be.

As soon as he was close, he paused on the roof of a nearby building, able to see the girl from there. She was staring in horror at something hidden in the shadows. "Karen, can you activate night vision?" He frowned. "Or would thermal vision be better?"

"Based on the heat of the surrounding air, I would recommend night vision," was Karen's response, efficient and accurate as usual.

"Cool. Activate night vision."

Seconds later, Peter found himself able to see further into the alley, though everything was now some varying shade of green. Sure enough, in the back corner was a tall man - or so he suspected - holding a dagger that was at _least_ ten inches long.

"Well, that's not shady at all, is it, Karen?" Peter murmured.

"If you are being sarcastic as I suspect you are, than I agree: it is not shady at all. However, if you are asking me a genuine question, then I regret to inform you that it is indeed rather 'shady.'"

Peter would have laughed at the AI's deadpan remarks had he not been so focused on the task at hand. "Karen, why isn't she running away?" The night vision was allowing him to see basic shapes, but did not highlight details. He'd have to talk to Mr. Stark about that.

The night vision suddenly switched off, and Karen magnified the girl, who he then noticed was clutching her side. "I believe she has been stabbed, Peter."

He cursed under his breath, knowing full well that the AI could hear him. Unlike FRIDAY, however, Karen was more lax about correcting his language, especially when he was under pressure. "So I need to disarm the guy, web him up, and then get the girl to a hospital?"

"She may not wish to go to a hospital," Karen warned. "Based on my facial recognition scan, the woman is named Liliana Varela, and her green card for staying in the U.S. recently expired."

"Well shit," Peter mumbled. "How's she going to get medical treatment?"

"If you are so inclined, Peter, I can download a first aid instruction set for you to use if you choose to treat her yourself," Karen offered. "However, I would recommend taking care of the man with the dagger first."

"Sounds great. Anything pop up for facial recognition on him?"

"I'm afraid not."

Peter shrugged. "Well, we can't have it all." Having grown tired of sitting around and waiting, he jumped off the roof and swung into the alley, landing neatly in front of the girl. Now that he was closer, the smell of liquor and smoke radiating off of the man was _smothering_. He almost gagged, and was thankful his mask hid _that_ embarrassing reaction.

Karen seemed to notice his distress, and immediately the suit started using the filter Mr. Stark had recently supplied it with, making the air cooler and easier to breathe - and without the disgusting smell, much to Peter's relief.

"Dude, I am only going to say this once: please take a bath," Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You smell _ripe_ , man."

"Shut up, you little twat," the man sneered. "Get out of my way or I'm going to gut you first."

Peter tapped his chin, as if in deep thought. "How about… No?" As he spoke, he shot rapid fire webs at the man. In seconds, he was pinned to the wall and the knife had been knocked from his grasp. An efficient snapping of a web knocked the guy out, and would likely keep him that way for hours. Peter debated on where to dispose of the dagger, but nothing was coming to mind.

Of course, Karen seemed to have heard his unspoken question and said, "I would recommend allowing the weapon to be turned over to the proper authorities, Peter."

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. "Duh." He tossed the dagger down in front of the man, just out of his reach. He may have been unconscious, but Peter wasn't taking any chances. "Have you contacted the police yet, Karen?"

"They are on their way."

"Great." Now Peter had to take care of the girl, who was still shaking and pinned up in the opposite corner of the alley, although with no restraints keeping her there he suspected that she hadn't run away simply because of fear. Fight, flight, freeze - the poor girl had frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Hey," Peter said, slowly approaching her and keeping his voice as level as possible. She was young - probably older than him, but still young. "What's your name?" He knew the answer, of course, courtesy of Karen, but if he wanted her trust, he had to gain it on his own.

"M-Me llamo Liliana," she stuttered, her hazel eyes so wide that she really did resemble a deer in headlights.

"Peter, would you like me to activate the translator mode in your suit?" Karen asked. "It is far from infallible, but combined with your background in Spanish from school, it may be enough to help you maintain a relatively simple conversation with her."

"Translator mode?" Peter repeated, brow furrowing in confusion under his mask. "Did Mr. Stark add that recently?"

"It was added the last time the two of you were working on the suit, yes."

"Huh. What does it do, exactly?" He hoped the girl couldn't tell he was still speaking, because talking with Karen was essentially talking to himself from an outsider's perspective.

"It translates the words going in and out of the suit," Karen replied. "You will say something in English - or Spanish, if you can identify the term you need to use - and she will hear the entire thing in Spanish. Likewise, what she says in Spanish you will hear in English."

"Duh. I should have realized that." Peter almost laughed. "Well, it sounds way too good to be true. But I'm not complaining. Let's do it, Karen."

"Activating translator mode."

"Hi, Liliana," Peter said kindly, returning his attention to the girl. "I promise you're safe with me. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I just want to help you."

The girl was still hesitant, but nodded, her shoulders seeming to relax ever so slightly. Apparently the translator mode was pretty effective, because he doubted she would have understood his words had they been delivered in English alone.

"Did that man hurt you?" Peter asked. "I saw that he had a knife. Did he touch you with it, or even touch you without it?" He paused, then backtracked. "Actually, how did you wind up here in the first place?"

The girl bit her lip, as if debating whether or not she wanted to tell him anything. Finally, she said, "Double date. My traidora of a friend arranged it."

"Traidora?" Peter mumbled. "Doesn't sound like English, Karen."

"My apologies, Peter. As I said, not all of the bugs have been worked out."

"It's fine. I think it literally translates to mean 'backstabber,' or something along those lines."

The girl took a deep breath before continuing. "She said she had a nice girl for me to meet. She said it would be fun." She shuddered. "I go, and I find out the 'nice girl' is that man. I wanted to leave, but my friend did not let me. Insisted that I 'give it a try.'" Peter noticed the tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes as she hugged herself tightly. "He tried to touch me, to make love to me, so I ran away. But he followed me." She stared at the unconscious man, her eyes void of all emotion. "He scratched my side with the knife."

"Any other physical injuries?" Peter asked. "Anything that needs immediate treatment?" He was well aware the girl would likely need some sort of therapy, but there was only so much he was equipped to handle past eight o'clock at night.

Huh. He hadn't even noticed that an entire hour had passed already.

The girl shook her head. "No."

"Okay." Peter took a tentative step closer to her. "May I see where he cut you?"

The girl hesitated, then slowly nodded, lifting up her shirt.

"Holy shit," Peter mumbled, forgetting the girl could understand him until he heard a tiny laugh escape her lips. "This is definitely not a scratch."

A gash, maybe. Not organs appeared to have been punctured, but this was not something _he_ could take care of on his own. Crimson blood was gushing out faster than her hands were able to suppress it.

"Liliana," Peter said gently, looking away from her wound and meeting her eyes. "You need to let me take you to the hospital. You need medical treatment."

The girl hastily shook her head. "No hospital!" she said, fear dancing in her voice. "Please. No hospital."

Peter bit his lip. The girl needed treatment, and she needed it _now_ \- that much was certain. "Karen, how fast can you renew her green card and transfer some of my personal savings into my main account so I can pay for her surgery?"

"I am not sure how wise of an idea that is, Peter."

"I can't leave her out here to die!" Peter snapped.

"I understand, Peter, but -"

"Please, Karen. I have to do this."

Peter knew the AI would have sighed if she could have. "Fine. I will work on it."

Peter returned his attention to the girl. "Liliana, you need to go to the hospital," he said calmly. "I know you're afraid. But a friend of mine is renewing your green card as we speak, and I will personally pay for your surgery, understand?"

This time the girl hesitated instead of answering with 'no' immediately. Finally, she mumbled, "Okay."

Her timing was almost scarily convenient, because just then several police cars and an ambulance pulled up at the alley. Peter was surprised he hadn't heard them coming, but then again, he'd been rather invested in the task at hand. "Awesome," he said, offering the girl a warm smile. "Then it's time for me to leave."

"No!" the girl exclaimed, staring at him with pleading eyes and taking a step in his direction. "Please stay. I'm afraid."

Peter flinched, noticing for the first time that the girl was even younger than he'd initially thought - maybe only seventeen or eighteen. _This_ was not part of the plan. "Karen," he muttered. "What should I do?"

"Well, based on my analyses of several crime reports, there does not seem to be a spike anywhere nor is there anything too challenging for police to handle," Karen replied. "If you choose to accompany her, I do not believe adverse consequences will necessarily arise."

Peter bit his lip, weighing his options. On the one hand, he was _Spider-Man_. He was supposed to patrol and protect the city. On the other hand, he had a feeling that this girl would not go to the hospital unless he was with her. If she died because of infection, he'd never be able to forgive himself. "Alright," he said softly as the ambulance pulled up into the alley. "I'll stay with you."

The look in the girl's eyes transformed from panic to something more serene as she offered him a watery smile. "Thank you."

The rest of the evening was a blur, if Peter was honest. From securing the guy he'd webbed up to helping the girl into the back of the ambulance and her clinging to him like he was a life preserver in the middle of a stormy ocean, well, he may have had enhanced endurance, but _damn_ was he tired when the girl came out of a three hour long surgery.

Or he thought she did, anyways. One of the doctors he'd met when they'd initially arrived approached him, and immediately tiny warning bells started going off in the back of his head.

 _Danger, danger!_ they screamed, but Peter ignored them. However he didn't fail to notice the way the doctor's shoulders were sagging and how the bags under her eyes seemed more pronounced than when they'd first met.

"I have some bad news, Mr… Spider-Man," she said, not meeting his gaze. "The girl you brought in? Liliana Varela?"

 _Please. No._

"She was hemophilic. Do you know what that means?"

Peter vaguely recognized the term, though he had no idea what it meant. That was more of Dr. Banner's specialty. "No."

"Her blood doesn't clot. It's a chronic disease, with no known cure." The doctor ran a hand through her dark hair. "If I'm honest, I'm amazed that it wasn't diagnosed before now, but it's not unheard of for people to simply not be injured enough where extensive blood loss is the result."

Peter's breath hitched at the words 'extensive blood loss.' "Is she…"

The doctor finally met his gaze, her eyes heavy as she slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, but she didn't make it. We tried everything we could, blood transfusions, cauterization, everything, but the amount of blood she lost was too great to replenish."

Peter felt sick. "I see." He hadn't saved her. "Thank you for letting me know." If he'd only worked a little faster.

The doctor nodded at him a final time before leaving, undoubtedly having to operate once again on someone else.

God, Peter couldn't breathe. That girl. That poor girl. Why hadn't he saved her? Why?

He practically ran out of the hospital, swinging from building to building, higher and higher, until he reached a rooftop where he stopped to catch his breath.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

Despite being artificial, Karen's voice was almost… Soothing. Mr. Stark really had worked wonders with her.

"Yeah," Peter mumbled. "I'm fine."

"Your elevated heart rate indicates otherwise. Do you feel guilty over the death of Liliana Varela?"

Peter flinched at the mention of her name. "Yeah. Kinda."

"I see. Why?"

"Why?" Peter scoffed. "Really, Karen? It's my fault she died! I didn't work fast enough to get her to the hospital in time."

"That is incorrect, Peter."

"And how would you know that?"

"I scan everywhere, everything, and everyone, Peter, and I do so all of the time. The girl had bled out more than what was replenishable before you arrived. You did not kill her." He could almost picture Karen giving him a sad smile. "You allowed her to live a final time before she died. She did not die in a cold, dirty alley at the hands of a man who wanted to manipulate her body for his own gain. She died knowing that there was someone - you - waiting outside who cared for her." The AI paused before adding, "It is perfectly natural to want to blame yourself, Peter. But I just wanted to let you know that you gave Liliana Varela one last gift of happiness before she passed on."

Peter hesitated. "You think so?"

"I know so, Peter. I am programmed to be infallible."

Peter couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "Most of the time, anyways. Remember that time you miscalculated and I slammed face-first into a skyscraper?"

"Everyone has a bad day. I'm inclined to believe that incident was a result of your own clumsiness."

"Oh _sure_ , Karen. I bet -"

"Incoming call from Mr. Stark."

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh my God. Karen, what time is it?!"

"It is half an hour past eleven o'clock, Peter."

"Shit!" Peter scrambled to his feet. "I was supposed to be back at the tower by eleven! Mr. Stark is going to _kill_ me!"

"Should I decline his call?"

"Uh, yeah," Peter hastily agreed, jumping off the building and webslinging as fast as he could back towards the tower. "Do you think you can make it look like I'm somewhere without service and that's why he can't connect?"

"Certainly, Peter." Karen hesitated. "However, I am unsure whether that is the best course of action for you to take -"

"Less talking, more blocking, please!" Peter interrupted as he flipped through the air, nearly not completing his somersault but managing to shoot a web at the next building and continuing forward.

"Call blocked."

"If he calls again do the same thing," Peter ordered. "Er… How far away am I from the tower?"

"Approximately twenty minutes," Karen replied. "Your ETA is around midnight."

Peter sighed. "He is _so_ going to take my suit."

xXxXxXx

Peter tumbled onto his balcony at exactly two minutes before midnight, scrambling to his feet before running inside the bedroom, closing the doors to the balcony behind him. Panting, he yanked his mask off to breathe in gasps of the cool tower air.

Of course, it was just his luck to turn around and see Tony Stark behind him, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to say after a long pause, giving the man an awkward wave. "Uh… What's up?"

"You're late," Tony snapped, staring icily at him. "I hope you have a decent explanation, Mr. Parker."

Peter flinched. 'Mr Parker' was never a good sign. "Well… I lost track of time?"

Tony scoffed. "Right. You 'lost track of time.' What an original excuse." He glared at Peter, who flinched a second time. God, Mr. Stark could be terrifying. "Why don't you cut the bullshit already and just tell me the truth?"

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. A flicker of guilt danced inside Peter, but he ignored it. "Goddamnit, Pete. When you didn't show up at eleven I almost went into cardiac arrest. You have got to start being more responsible. At the very least, you should have notified me that you were going to be late."

Peter rolled his eyes in frustration. "Mr. Stark, I didn't realize I was going to be late until it was 11:30."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. "Oh really? And what was so important, kid, that it distracted you for over three hours?"

Peter was silent. Despite Karen's comforting words about Liliana Varela, he didn't exactly want to talk about the events of the evening, much less with an angry Mr. Stark.

"What, are we playing the quiet game now?" Tony snapped. "Fine. You've just lost both your lab and Spider-Man privileges for a week. If you don't start talking, I'm going to extend it to two."

Peter's jaw dropped, unable to believe his ears. "What the hell, Mr. Stark?"

"Watch your language, Mr. Parker. Am I hearing three weeks?"

"You can't do that!" Peter sputtered. "You aren't the boss of me!" This was a lie, of course, but he'd never been someone skilled with thinking up witty comebacks when under pressure.

"Actually, I am," Tony corrected. Then he sighed, and his icy stare was replaced with a look of utter exhaustion. "Peter, you can't deliberately ignore the curfew I set and then not explain to me _why_ you ignored it and _still_ expect there to be no consequences." His shoulders sagged. "Before I had FRIDAY reroute the call you blocked, the fact you were out of service had me thinking that you'd gotten yourself hurt and were bleeding out in some alley. Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Peter flinched at the words 'bleeding out,' which he knew hadn't gone unnoticed by Mr. Stark. "Well, I'm fine. So can we just drop it?"

"'Just drop it?'" Tony said incredulously. "Okay, fine. That's the last time I care about your well-being, Mr. Parker." He frowned, frustration written all over his face. "Now either you're going to explain yourself or it's three weeks. I'm giving you five seconds to get started."

Peter glared angrily at the man, his guilt mixing with irritation to create some awful form of unbridled rage. "Oh, so you care about me now because I'm a _little_ after curfew? You didn't seem to care when you ignored me for _months_ after we got back from Germany! Or after you took my suit! Not to mention the shit I went through with the Vulture!" He was seething. "You don't have the right to pretend to care about me!"

Tony was staring at him with wide eyes, hurt and confusion flickering in them, not that Peter gave a damn. "Pete, I -"

"Just leave me alone," Peter growled, not caring how rude or out of line he was acting. "I've had a long night, and I'd like to get some sleep while I still can."

Tony ran his hands through his hair. "Peter, if something happened out there tonight, you need to talk to me -"

"No!" Peter interrupted, clenching his fists so tightly his fingernails were digging into his skin even through the suit. "You aren't my dad, Mr. Stark! I don't have to talk to you about _anything_! So I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave. Me. Alone."

His tone was laced with venom, but he ignored the regret coursing through his veins as Mr. Stark took a step away from him. Peter didn't miss how the blood drained from the man's face at his words, but he didn't give a shit. At least that was what he was telling himself. He ignored the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he watched Mr. Stark silently leave, the door softly clicking shut behind him.

Only then did he bury his face into his pillow and cry.

xXxXxXx

Peter awoke to a gentle shaking of his shoulder. "Go away," he grumbled, eyes bleary as he cracked them open only to clench them shut as bright light flooded his vision. "Still sleeping."

"Sorry, Peter," a voice he recognized as being female despite his exhaustion said. "You have to get up now. I've let you sleep as long as I could. You're going to be helping me out today."

Peter groaned, slowly sitting up. "I'm doing what?"

"Well, normally I'd have my assistant or Tony help me, but I gave Sharona the week off and Tony has locked himself in the lab for the time being." There was a pause. "He told me about what happened last night."

Peter winced as memories flooded his brain. Liliana Varela. Yelling at Mr. Stark. He groaned. God, he'd told the man that he wasn't his dad. Which was true, but at the same time it _wasn't._ "I have to talk to him," he muttered, trying to climb out of his bed - still not having opened his eyes - but instead tripping over his feet. He probably would have faceplanted into the floor had someone not grabbed him and pulled him upright.

"Steady, Peter. I don't need you to get a concussion. Then there wouldn't be anyone at all left to help me."

Peter decided that he might as well open his eyes already, and upon doing so met the warm gaze of the one and only Pepper Potts. "Ms. Potts?!" he sputtered, instinctively backing away. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you!" Oh God, he'd tripped over his own feet in front of perhaps the most brilliant and powerful woman on the planet, if not the universe.

Pepper laughed. "Don't worry. Get yourself dressed and meet me in the kitchen. There's a lot we have to get done today."

Peter frowned in confusion. "What?"

Pepper rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, a small smile dancing on her lips. "Did you not hear a single thing I said to you, Mr. Parker?"

He flinched instinctively when she called him 'Mr. Parker,' reminded of his argument with Mr. Stark. "Not exactly?" He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Ms. Potts. I'd love to help you, but I really need to talk to Mr. Stark today."

"And you will," Pepper reassured him. "Although I wouldn't advise you to do that now. He's… Preoccupied. Working. Distracting himself, I presume."

Peter groaned, slamming the base of his palm into his forehead. "God, I screwed up."

"Don't we all?" Pepper offered him a sympathetic smile. "Meet me in the kitchen, Peter. Today you're going to learn a little bit about the art of dealing with Tony Stark."

Peter wasn't sure how to react to that, instead nodding as Pepper left his room without another word, heels clicking against the floor. He stood frozen for a few seconds longer before jumping into action, running a brush through his tangled hair and throwing on a clean pair of clothes - he'd still been in his suit, holy shit he'd been caught sleeping in his Spider-Man suit by Pepper Potts - before taking the elevator down to the kitchen.

"Glad you're able to join me," Pepper called from behind the counter, tossing him an apron that he caught instinctively. "We're going to make breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, after all. Pancakes sound good to you?"

Peter nodded, still unable to find his voice.

Pepper chuckled, winking at him. "Just make sure to leave enough for Tony, okay?" Then she sighed, her tone tinged with exasperation. "Assuming he'll actually eat it, of course. That man is notoriously bad at taking care of himself." She offered Peter a small smile. "And _that_ is the reason why I'm going to teach you how to deal with Tony. At least in part." She laughed. "If I tried to teach you everything about putting up with Tony Stark, we'd be here for years."

Peter did crack a smile at that as he tied his apron around his back. "You could write an entire series about how to deal with Mr. Stark." He hesitated, then added, "How exactly are you going to… Teach me?"

Pepper shrugged. "I have a few ideas here and there." She glanced at her watch. "We're on a tight schedule, so let's get started."

Peter beamed at her, the guilt weighing on his chest lifting slightly at the thought of spending the day with Ms. Potts. He'd never really had a chance to be around the woman for extended periods of time, seeing as he was really only ever at the tower for his internship or for Spider-Man business. "Ms. Potts, can we make the pancakes into shapes and stuff?"

Pepper blinked in surprise, then laughed. "Sounds wonderful. Usually I stick with circles that don't resemble circles in the slightest."

Peter joined Pepper at the griddle she'd plugged in that lay on the counter, heating up. "May can't really cook to save her life, but pancakes are usually manageable. We always try to make them into stars or hearts or even little Mickey Mouse heads."

"Well, I think that's a tradition I'd like to adopt into this household, if you don't mind," Pepper said with a chuckle as she pulled various ingredients from the pantry and fridge.

Peter smiled. "The more the merrier, right?"

"Yes, I'd have to agree -" She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She frowned as she picked it up from the counter and glanced at the caller ID, then sighed. "I have to take this, Peter. Do you mind mixing the pancake batter?"

"Not a problem," Peter said, and Pepper mouthed 'thank you' at him as she answered the call before leaving the kitchen.

"Hello, Mr. Cotton. Yes, I'm available to talk right now, but I'd prefer if you could keep things…"

Eventually the woman was out of earshot, and Peter briefly wondered if she had gone so far as to be out of range of his enhanced hearing or if she'd simply moved into a soundproof room. Knowing the way Mr. Stark had structured his tower, it was probably the latter.

Peter started prepping the pancake batter, pouring the ingredients into a bowl and mixing them almost mindlessly, having done it hundreds of times before. His thoughts drifted to his argument with Mr. Stark. He hadn't meant to yell at him. He'd just been tired and stressed. Not that he was trying to excuse his actions, but…

Maybe he was trying to make up excuses.

He sighed as he finished mixing the batter, noting that he'd made enough to create at least a hundred pancakes. Then again, Ms. Potts knew he could probably eat two hundred pancakes in one sitting if he was really hungry, so she'd likely gotten out enough ingredients accordingly.

Peter poured some batter on the griddle, attempting to create a star shape, wincing when the final result was… Well, _not_ a star. Apparently he was a little rusty.

Three circles, two 'stars,' and an uneven heart later, Pepper returned to the kitchen, sending a final message on her phone before tossing it on the counter. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I swear that the list of issues with companies is neverending."

"Especially when that company is Stark Industries," Peter quipped, a small smile dancing on his lips. "But if anyone can handle it, it's you, Ms. Potts."

Pepper shook her head, smiling. "What a flatterer. I'm sure you're a real hit with the ladies."

Peter snickered. "Yep. All my teachers love me."

Pepper swatted him with a towel. "Ha ha, Mr. Parker." She moved over to the sink, quickly washing her hands before returning her attention to him. "Mind if I assist in making breakfast?"

Peter glanced down at his misshapen pancakes, wincing. "Hopefully yours will turn out better than mine."

Pepper laughed. "I guess we'll find out."

Peter was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Ms. Potts. Not that he thought she was stuck up or anything - he was just so used to seeing her radiating an air of authority. But this was different. This was a Pepper Potts who was relaxed and enjoying some of the rare spare time she was blessed with.

No wonder Mr. Stark always stared at her so lovingly when he thought no one was looking.

In the end it took he and Ms. Potts under thirty minutes to make a grand total of 97 pancakes - 34 circles, 17 stars, 21 squares, 12 hearts, and 13 Mickey Mouse heads - and less than twenty minutes to eat their fill.

Peter was about to start cleaning up when Pepper stopped him. "As much as I appreciate your kindness, we don't have time to do that," she said. "FRIDAY, let Tony know that breakfast and dishes are waiting for him."

"Right away, ma'am," the AI replied.

Pepper took Peter's apron and tossed it next to her own on the counter before grabbing her phone and tucking it into her pocket. "Today you're going to be my assistant, Peter," she explained. "It's going to be kind of boring at first, I'll admit it. Paperwork and a few errands. Are you ready?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine by me. I'm not really doing anything else."

Pepper laughed. "If only everyone who worked here had that kind of attitude." She winked at him. "Let's see how long you last."

Peter was about to retort that he thought he'd do just fine when Tony Stark walked into the kitchen, hair sticking up in a hundred directions and a presumably empty coffee cup in hand.

Tony froze when he saw them, and Peter couldn't stop himself from stiffening, either.

"Good morning, Tony," Pepper said, either oblivious to the tension between them or simply ignoring it as she walked over to her fiancé and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm happy to see you aren't completely restricting yourself to the lab. Breakfast eagerly awaits you." Then she gestured to Peter. "I'm going to be using your intern for the day, alright? I let Sharona have the week off. She's going to New Jersey to spend time with her boyfriend. Randy Disher, I think his name is. Sweet kid. A police chief, if memory serves." She waved her hand dismissively. "Anyways. Peter's going to be my personal assistant."

Tony looked overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of words, but managed to mutter, "I see."

Pepper gave him another quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you don't mind me stealing him for the day. I'll try to bring him back before curfew."

Peter flinched at the reminder of last night, and pretended not to notice Mr. Stark doing the same.

"Let's go, Peter," Pepper instructed, making her way to the elevator.

Peter followed her, deliberately ignoring Mr. Stark's gaze as he hastily moved past the man. As soon as he joined Ms. Potts in the elevator and the doors slid shut behind him, he was unable to stop his shoulders from slumping in relief.

Pepper shook her head. "The tension between the two of you was so thick that I'm not sure vibranium would have been able to cut it." Her eyes softened. "Peter, I only know what Tony has told me. If you'd like to talk to me about what happened last night, I'm fully willing to listen."

He shrugged in response, his voice caught in his throat.

Pepper nodded. "Later, then. If you're feeling up to it." The elevator dinged, drawing the attention of the two.

Peter's eyes widened as he realized where they were, wordlessly following Ms. Potts into the room.

"Welcome to my office, Peter," Pepper said, gesturing around her before making her way to her desk. She offered him a tiny smile. "What do you think?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish before finally managing to sputter, "It's - It's amazing!"

Besides the huge balcony-slash-window that he was insanely jealous of, there was also a tiny robot on Ms. Potts's desk that he suspected helped her with paperwork. The walls were obviously some form of nanotech, and he had a feeling they would project holograms of whatever information the woman needed. She could probably even manipulate them to a certain extent - from video conferences to editing reports.

Then again, there was also a nice computer on her desk with a keyboard that appeared rather worn, so it was also possible that she preferred what Mr. Stark called an 'old-fashioned' way of working.

There were a few other standard items in the office; filing cabinets, a cup filled with pens, and assorted plants in the corners to liven up the room a bit.

"And you get to spend the whole day in here," Pepper said, winking at him. She paused, then corrected herself with a laugh. "Well, not an _entire_ day. Just long enough for you to file this for me." She gestured at a large stack of paperwork resting on her desk, and Peter couldn't help but wince at the sight. "I know it seems like a lot, but the filing system I use isn't complicated, so it shouldn't take you too long. Alphabetical order by last name per company."

Peter nodded, feeling slightly less anxious at the task but still not wanting to screw things up.

"When you're done with these there's a few errands we have to run," Pepper continued. "And by a few I mean one. I have a meeting to attend, and you'll be joining me. All you're going to have to do is take notes, and it's not a high stakes conference, so there's no need for you to stress yourself out over that, either."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. "Right. Got it."

Pepper glanced at her watch and sighed. "I've got to step out for a moment. I promised I'd meet with the electrical department about an issue they're having with vacation days. I'll be back in twenty. Until then, file away. And if you're done before I get back, please don't leave this room. Thanks again!"

With a wave and a cheery smile, she was gone, leaving a stunned Peter behind her.

The entire morning had felt like a whirlwind. He'd been woken up to get dressed then make and eat breakfast right away, and immediately after that had been told he'd have to file hundreds of papers and take notes during a conference. Not to mention he'd awkwardly avoided a confrontation with Mr. Stark.

Ms. Potts was more talkative than he thought she'd be - or maybe that was just because he was so used to her being with Mr. Stark, who had a tendency to do most of the talking.

Peter realized he was still standing around instead of filing the papers Ms. Potts had asked him to take care of, which prompted him into action.

However, he quickly realized that being bitten by a radioactive spider didn't exactly increase his attention span when it came to the same laborious task of filing paper after paper. "This is so sad," he muttered, unable to resist the temptation to recite the iconic meme. "FRIDAY, play Despacito."

"Playing Despacito," FRIDAY replied, and Peter's eyes widened.

"I wasn't serious!" he sputtered, biting back laughter as the familiar song started to play. "It's just a meme, FRIDAY."

"Meme: a humorous image, video, piece of text, etc., that is copied - often with slight variations - and spread rapidly by Internet users." FRIDAY paused. "I fail to see how this song is a meme, Peter."

Peter chuckled. "I don't know how to explain it, FRIDAY, but it is."

"Would you like me to stop playing the song?"

"Yes, thank you." He paused, then added tentatively, "Do you think you could play Lindsey Stirling?" He'd recently fallen hard and fast for the violinist - or for her music, anyways. The fact that she was an entirely self-made artist, too, was also beyond amazing to him.

"Certainly, Peter. Playing Lindsey Stirling."

Peter found he was able to focus much easier with familiar music dancing around the room. He even started to skim over the files he was putting away instead of just glancing long enough to see the last name and company before filing the paper accordingly.

Of course, it was probably illegal to read these files, but legalities of that sort had never concerned Peter very much.

He froze in shock as he reach a section in the papers titled 'SHIELD.' There were several of them, each labeled with the name of a different Avenger.

 _Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton. Sam Wilson. Wanda Maximoff._

Peter noticed that there wasn't one for Mr. Stark, although his name was mentioned on every form under one particular section: Expenses.

"What the hell," he muttered, going through every SHIELD report to see the exact same thing. Ever since the Avengers had been founded, Mr. Stark had covered every. Single. Expense. Sure, the man was a billionaire, but still - he'd never once heard him complain about having to pay for everything, much less hear anyone _thank_ him for doing so.

Then one particular paper caught his eye. _Flughafen Leipzig-Halle._

He knew that name.

A quick read of the file informed him that Flughafen Leipzig-Halle was the airport where he'd fought against _the_ Captain America. Peter didn't know much about the Accords, but he'd understood enough that he agreed with them in that superheroes had to be held accountable for their actions.

And based on this, the only person ever held accountable was Tony Stark, even if Steve Rogers - or someone else - was the one doing the damage.

Peter was tempted to ask FRIDAY about that file and the others, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the large stack of papers he had yet to put away.

Later. He'd ask the AI later. He had to finish his job first.

xXxXxXx

"Sorry I was gone for so long," Pepper apologized as she stepped out of the elevator. Peter noticed that her formerly neat bun had a few more hairs straying from it than it had before, and he suspected that meeting may not have gone exactly the way she wanted. "There were more issues than I anticipated."

"That's okay," Peter reassured her before filing away the last paper. "I kept busy."

A _ding_ echoed in the office, and Pepper sighed as she glanced down at her phone. She rolled her eyes. "Time to go, Peter. The conference you need to take notes at has just been rescheduled for thirty minutes from now, and it's at least a twenty minute trip there."

Peter bit his lip. He hadn't had a chance to talk to FRIDAY about the SHIELD files yet.

Then again, Ms. Potts probably knew just as much as the AI did, and might be more willing to talk to him than something programmed by Mr. Stark.

He followed the woman into the elevator, silently debating whether to ask her then or later. He was saved from having to decide, however, when Ms. Potts spoke.

"After the conference we can pick up lunch somewhere. You can choose; I'm not very picky." She glanced at her watch. "It'll probably be around two, though. It's a good thing we had a late breakfast." She smiled at him. "You're doing excellent so far, Peter. You've already mastered the first lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark."

Peter blinked in surprise, all thoughts of SHIELD forgotten. "I have?"

Pepper laughed. "The first lesson is patience, and tied into that is the concept of 'rolling with the punches.' You haven't complained once the entire time about the amount of work I've saddled on you, nor did you say anything about how much longer I took in the meeting than I was supposed to. Plus, you didn't even argue when I woke you up with the fact that you were going to be working with me for the day. Dealing with Tony is wild and unpredictable, so being patient and doing your best to be prepared for anything is a must."

Huh. Peter had never really thought of it like that. "Are there other lessons?"

"A few." Pepper winked at him. "Remember patience, Peter. We'll get to them soon enough." Her phone rang, and she cast him an apologetic look as the doors of the elevator opened, revealing the garage. "I have to take this."

Peter nodded, following her out of the elevator and towards a car, which Happy was standing next to. "Hey Happy!" he said cheerfully as the man held the door open for Ms. Potts. "I thought you weren't a driver anymore?"

Happy glared at him, though there was no genuine malice behind it. "I double as Pepper's personal bodyguard at Tony's request, kid."

"Which includes driving for her," Peter teased as he climbed into his side of the car.

Happy rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

The drive was mostly silent, the exception being Ms. Potts as she continued speaking with… Whoever had called her.

Peter stared out the window, watching trees and buildings go by. As much as he was enjoying hanging out with Ms. Potts, he still wanted to apologize to Mr. Stark. He didn't know exactly _how_ to apologize, yet, but he _was_ genuinely sorry for shouting at the man instead of talking things out.

God, it was going to be awkward as hell to explain to him that maybe Peter _did_ see him as a father figure. Just a teeny tiny bit.

The rest of the ride to the conference was a blur. If Peter was honest, the conference itself was a blur, too. It was about stock exchanges and the like - otherwise known as things Peter knew enough about to not care. He took notes, however, and Ms. Potts seemed pleased by everything he'd written down based on the tiny smile she'd given him before having to answer yet another phone call. He didn't understand how she balanced everything and still maintained her sanity. Thor wasn't the strongest Avenger - Ms. Potts was.

They stopped for lunch at a shawarma place Peter had always wanted to try - wanted to try with Mr. Stark, admittedly, but that didn't seem as if it was going to happen anytime soon - and were there for about an hour before driving back to the tower, which in itself was maybe a ten minute trip. Still, it was well after four o' clock by the time they returned.

Peter followed Ms. Potts into the living room on the private floor of the tower, aka the 'Iron Suite,' and hesitated before sitting down on the couch next to her.

"I'm sure you've been wanting to ask me some questions," Pepper began, powering her phone off before returning her attention to him. "I can see it in your eyes. And I'm sure a lot of them are about Tony. I'll answer everything as best I can - another lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark is _understanding_ him. Some of that will come into play later, when you're forced to talk with him, of course."

Peter winced at the thought of talking to Mr. Stark. He couldn't picture a single future where the man would actually _want_ to talk to him.

"Don't worry," Pepper said softly. "He'll come around. He feels as bad as you do."

"I don't even know _how_ to apologize to him!" Peter groaned, running his hands through his hair. "I was being a dumbass and I didn't even bother thinking about the words I was saying until they'd already left my mouth."

Pepper shrugged. "Well, that's something you have in common with him, then. Tony is notorious for running his mouth instead of saying what he actually means."

Peter managed a laugh. "Is that one of the most important things to know when it comes to understanding Mr. Stark?"

Pepper chuckled. "Now that you've pointed it out, yes, I'd have to say it is."

Peter remembered his question from earlier, when he'd been filing papers regarding SHIELD, and figured there was no harm in asking. "Ms. Potts, why does Mr. Stark pay for every Avengers-related expense?" He hesitated, then added, "Do they even _know_ he pays for everything? Because sometimes it seems like Mr. Stark gets the short end of the stick when it comes to Avengers business. No one ever thanks him for cleaning up all the messes they leave behind, even if Mr. Stark himself wasn't directly involved."

Peter could have sworn Pepper muttered something rather foul under her breath. "You ask some hard questions, Mr. Parker." He noticed that her blue eyes had lost some of their energetic spark. "I'm sure you know at least a little bit about Tony's experiences in Afghanistan. How before he was selfish and arrogant and completely irresponsible, and how when he returned his personality had turned a complete 180."

"I remember," Peter said, vaguely recalling how the media had blown up, some supportive and others… Less supportive, to put it kindly. "He wanted to stop making weapons."

Pepper nodded. "Yes. And that's why Stark Industries is the way it is today. But the reason Tony changed, Peter, is because he found out that his weapons were being sold under the table to the very people he'd created them to be used against. Beyond this, however, is that he realized how many innocents were suffering. Because of him. Or so he would say." Pepper took a shuddering breath, and Peter noticed the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Tony vowed to be responsible for anything and everything he was connected with. He never said so out loud, but anyone who was around him enough could tell."

Peter frowned. "The Avengers couldn't, apparently."

Pepper shrugged. "I don't want to be rude, but many of the Avengers can be very self-absorbed." She paused. "Well, that's not true. But they're only able to see life through a narrow tunnel. They perceive one possible outcome, and they assume that's the outcome everyone else sees, too."

Peter had a feeling she was hinting at the dispute between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers. He'd shown up at the tower one day for his internship, only to be turned away at the door, but not before catching a glimpse of Tony Stark battered with cuts and bruises.

"They have a tendency to… _Not_ think ahead," Pepper continued. "It's almost laughable. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, and yet so few of them consider the consequences of their actions. And when things shatter in their wake…"

"Mr. Stark is the one there to pick up the pieces," Peter finished.

She nodded before continuing. "You asked if they knew how Tony pays for everything." Pepper sighed, shrugging. "Based on how he and Rogers split the way they did, I'm inclined to think not. I guess they just assume SHIELD takes care of it. Which, of course, doesn't make it better, because they're still assuming that _they_ shouldn't have to worry about." She scoffed. "Some superheroes they are." She cast him an apologetic look. "Sorry. You wanted to know more about Tony, not hear me talk trash about the other Avengers."

Peter laughed. "It's kinda funny."

Pepper shrugged. "I'm a regular citizen. I see things differently compared to superheroes, even if I am engaged to one. And I believe my view matches better with the average population than the rest of the Avengers does, yet they consider me 'uninformed.'" She cursed. "Damn it, there I go again." She covered her mouth, then mock-glared at Peter. "Do not repeat that word. I'll never hear the end of it."

Peter stuck out his tongue. "Bold of you to assume I haven't heard that word before."

Pepper shook her head. "Tony is a terrible influence on you." She snapped her fingers. "Speaking of Tony, before I get off track again, do you have any more questions about him?"

Peter wracked his brain because he could have sworn there was more he wanted to know, but for some reason he couldn't think of anything. Maybe that was his subconscious telling him that he needed to talk to Mr. Stark himself. "I guess not."

"Well, before I move on to the next lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark, I'll just share a little information with you." Pepper glanced at him. "How much do you know about the Accords themselves, Peter?"

Peter blinked in surprise. He hadn't been sure what Ms. Potts was going to talk about, but _this_ was not it. "Uh… Not much, I guess. I know it has to do with government regulation of superheroes."

Pepper nodded. "Essentially. I'm not going to bore you by going into technical detail, but here's how Tony sees it: the Accords are a way of making sure that superheroes, enhanced beings, whomever, take responsibility for their actions."

Peter understood that. Especially after the discussion they'd just had on how Mr. Stark was always the one who had to be responsible for the Avengers.

"Now, the Accords were by no means perfect," Pepper continued. "But what law has ever been perfect on the first try? Long story short, Tony wanted to pass the Accords and then change things from the inside out. One of his more rational suggestions, in all honesty. However." She sighed, running a hand through her red hair. "Not everyone viewed it as a way of taking responsibility. Steve Rogers, for example. He thought the Accords were too controlling. 'The safest hands are our own.' Of course, he didn't say that to anyone who was hurt or died when he was saving the world. He was only talking about himself." For a moment, Peter saw something dark flash in Ms. Potts's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"And that's why they ended up fighting, right?" Peter made a vague hand gesture. "Because Mr. Stark felt they needed to be held responsible, but Mr. Rogers didn't want to be put on a leash."

Pepper nodded. "And they both had understandable points. I can see _why_ they divided up the way they did, even if I don't agree entirely with Rogers. And in the end, Rogers was more hotheaded. Not Tony, surprisingly enough. I'm sure you remember how they ended up fighting at Flughafen Leipzig-Halle - which Tony paid for - and Natasha pulled a Benedict Arnold on Tony. Rogers got away."

Peter panicked briefly before remembering that Benedict Arnold had been a traitor, supporting the American colonists in the Revolutionary War until he wanted more money and moved over to the British side. God, how embarrassing would it have been if he'd had to ask the world-renowned Pepper Potts to give him a history lesson?

"And there's not really much else I can tell you after that." Pepper bit her lip. "Rogers was keeping secrets. Too many secrets. Unfortunately, I can't say what they are, because it's not my place." She laughed, though Peter did not miss how it was tinged with bitterness. "You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this." She didn't bother waiting for him to answer. "One of the most important lessons you can learn in the art of dealing with Tony Stark is to be there for him. And during the Accords fiasco, I _wasn't_ there, and I'll never forgive myself for it." She offered Peter a soft smile. "You've always been there for him, even though I doubt you realize it. Peter, Tony cares for you _very_ much, even if he never says so out loud."

"I wasn't there for him last night," Peter said, frustrated at himself. "Instead I just shouted at him. I got so angry and for no reason!" He groaned. "And I told him that he wasn't my dad. But it's not like I'm his son or anything!" God, he hated being a teenager. Some things just did _not_ need to be so complicated.

"And that's why I'm about to let you go down and talk to Tony," Pepper said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "But if you're really in doubt about how much Tony cares about you, let me tell you a few secrets that I _am_ allowed to share." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Before Tony met you, Peter, he was always talking to me about the possibility of having kids. He was honestly terrified of the idea, because he didn't want to end up like his father, but he still wanted to have a family. After a certain point, however, he simply stopped asking about it. I didn't know it at first, but this was shortly after he met you, or at least shortly after the two of you returned from Germany."

Peter's eyes widened. "Holy shit, I distracted Mr. Stark from his future. I'm a terrible person."

"First of all, watch your mouth," Pepper began, "and second of all, no, you are not a terrible person." She laughed. "Peter, there's a reason Tony calls you 'kid' all the time. When he thinks you aren't listening, he'll refer to you as ' _my_ kid.' Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you've really become like a son to him."

Peter buried his face in his hands. "And now he hates me, right?"

"He could never hate you," Pepper reassured him. "You just need to go talk to him. Be there for him. And in doing that, he will be there for you."

"You make it sound so easy," Peter said wistfully. If only it could be so simple.

"To be fair, I've had many years of experience," Pepper said, chuckling. "Now go and make a sandwich or something and bring it to Tony. Food is an excellent icebreaker, and knowing him I'm sure he forgot to eat lunch, anyway."

"What if he doesn't want to listen to me?" Peter said after a pause. That had been his greatest anxiety - the idea of Mr. Stark simply turning him away at the door.

"He will," Pepper replied simply. "But if you're nervous, you need to kind of… Open things up. Maybe remind him of something, show him a short video, anything kind of small that you might think of to help ease the tension between the two of you."

A grin crept on Peter's lips. "I think I have an idea." He pulled Ms. Potts into a tight hug before kissing her on the cheek and running off into the kitchen, calling behind him, "Thank you so much, Ms. Potts!"

Pepper laughed from the couch. "You're very welcome, Peter."

xXxXxXx

Peter's heart was practically pounding out of his chest as he waited outside the lab, his grip so tight on the plate holding Mr. Stark's sandwich he was afraid it might shatter. He couldn't enter unless Mr. Stark allowed him access, so he silently prayed the man would let him in soon.

God must have been listening, because there was a quiet click as the door slid open. Peter hesitated briefly before walking in and making his way towards Mr. Stark, who was working intently on what looked like one of his suit repulsors. "H-Here," he stammered, silently cursing himself for tripping up on the first word he'd said to the man all day. "I, uh, made you something to eat."

"Thanks," Tony murmured, continuing to focus on his work. "You can put it down over there." He didn't bother gesturing in any direction, but Peter was well aware he meant on the table next to him.

"So," Peter said after an awkward pause. "Can I show you a video, Mr. Stark?"

 _That_ got Tony to stop working. He turned to Peter, eyebrow raised. "Are you seriously asking me to stop what I'm doing so you can show me a video?"

Peter flinched at his condescending tone, but told himself that the man probably didn't mean it. Hopefully. "Yes?"

Tony sighed but patted the seat next to him. "Fine. But it had better be quick, kid."

Peter's shoulders relaxed at the familiar nickname of 'kid,' and a seed of hope was planted in his brain that maybe, just maybe, Mr. Stark wasn't so mad at him after all. He practically leapt onto the chair as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in his password before going to YouTube and searching for a particular Vine.

It took him only seconds to find it because he was an avid Vine-lover, and quickly turned the volume up before handing his phone over to Mr. Stark.

Tony accepted the phone but stared at it almost skeptically, as if he thought Peter was showing him some kind of jump scare.

Instead, a familiar song started to play, and Peter had to bit his lip to keep from laughing as Mr. Stark's eyes widened.

"You are my dad - you're my dad! Boogie woogie woogie!"

At least ten seconds passed before Tony said, "Parker, what the hell was that?"

Peter burst out laughing and promptly fell off of his stool and onto the floor, not caring how he hit the table on the way down as he clutched his stomach. "Oh my God! Mr. Stark, you should have seen your face!"

Tony rolled his eyes and offered Peter a hand, which Peter accepted, pulling him to his feet. " _That's_ what you interrupted my work for? To show me _that_ video?"

Peter had to let his laughter finish dying out before saying, "Yes."

Tony sighed. "Kid, you need to work on your prioritizing."

"But that _was_ my priority," Peter corrected. "Because you are my dad, Mr. Stark." Well, he couldn't stop now. "Kind of, at least. You're not my actual dad and you're not Uncle Ben, but you're up there." The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a crooked smile. "The Holy Trinity of fatherly figures in the life of Peter Parker."

That earned a chuckle from Tony. "As honored as I am, kid, I really shouldn't be up there. I'm not exactly the 'parental' type."

"Yeah, right," Peter scoffed. "Besides the fact that there is no such thing, you're obviously such a dad, Mr. Stark. Like, if you and Ms. Potts ever have children, you would probably be voted dad of the year."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Parker, but I didn't exactly have the greatest dad to look up to as a role model when I was growing up," Tony countered.

"But that's why you _are_ the best dad," Peter corrected, realizing he probably should have said 'would be' but figured it was too late to go back now. "You know not to make those mistakes. Sure, you're going to make mistakes overall, but you know exactly why you hated your dad and that'll help you to not follow in his footsteps."

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you been talking with Pepper?"

Peter turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "Yes, but not about this! I promise!"

Tony shook his head in mock disapproval, but a tiny smile was dancing on his lips. "Thanks, kid."

Peter hesitated before continuing. "I also want to apologize for last night. I shouldn't have shouted at you, I shouldn't have come back after curfew especially without contacting you about it, and I shouldn't have kept brushing you off like I did. You were just looking out for me." He bit his lip. "I'm sure you don't want to hear it, but I'd really like to talk to you about why I was so late last night."

Tony tossed aside the repulsor he was working on, turning towards Peter and giving him his full attention. "Of course I want to hear it, Pete. And I shouldn't have yelled at you. It was clear you were upset but I kept snapping at you anyway."

Peter shrugged. "You were just doing your job." He ran his hands through his hair, taking a somewhat shaky breath to calm himself. "I was out patrolling, and Karen was scanning for crime. It wasn't a particularly busy night, she told me. But while I was standing on a rooftop, I heard a scream. It was far away, but Karen pinpointed it as being in an alley. I used my webshooters and got there as fast as I could." He hesitated. God, part of him wanted to stop then and there.

"You don't have to keep telling me anything," Tony said, his voice calm and his eyes gentle. Peter recognized that look as something he thought was only reserved for Pepper when she was stressed. It made him feel warmer to know that he was included, too.

"No, I want to tell you. I have to tell you." Peter absentmindedly started playing with a screwdriver from the lab table, giving his hands something to do. "It was a woman. Although she probably wasn't much older than me. Karen ran facial recognition and told me that her name was Liliana Varela. There was a man, too - big guy, and he had a huge ass dagger."

"Language," Tony corrected instinctively. "Continue."

Peter managed a half smile at that. "Anyways. The woman had been stabbed, so I figured it would be a routine web the guy up and help get the girl to a hospital. And it was, at first." His face fell. "But then Karen told me that the woman's green card had recently expired. When I tried to talk to her, she only spoke Spanish, so I had to use Karen's translator function and my own miniscule knowledge to communicate." He made a face, attempting to lighten the mood, whether it was more for himself or Mr. Stark he didn't know. "There's a lot of bugs in that, by the way."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "We'll work out the kinks together later. Keep going."

Peter nodded before continuing. "I planned to try to treat her myself, but as soon as she stepped into the light…" He shuddered. "There was blood everywhere, Mr. Stark. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. And the girl had this huge, _awful_ red gash running down her side, and blood was oozing out so quickly it…" He sighed, needing an excuse to stop speaking if only for a moment. "It seemed unreal. The only way I was able to convince her to go to the hospital was to renew her green card, pay for the surgery myself, and promise to stay with her." He offered his mentor an awkward, if pained, smile. "By the way… If you notice an unusually large amount of money taken out of that college fund you started helping me save, that's what it was for."

"I see," Tony said, returning Peter's awkward smile with one of his own. "Don't worry. I'll be able to replenish it easily. What happened then?"

"I went with her. Three hours, Mr. Stark." Peter looked up at the older man, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't remember if he'd ever felt this vulnerable before. "I thought for sure she'd be okay because if the doctors took three hours then they had to be making sure she'd be completely find at the end of it, right?" He wiped his eyes before the tears could fall down his cheeks. "And when one of the doctors came out to where I was waiting, I knew something was wrong. It was like warning bells going off at the back of my head." He swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately trying to prevent his voice from cracking. "She had hemophilia, Mr. Stark. She'd bled out during the surgery." He stared down at his hands, one fist clenching and unclenching methodically while the other tightly gripped the screwdriver. "And I know there was nothing I could have done. At least, that's what Karen said."

"But you still think 'what if I'd worked faster' or 'what if I'd tried to treat her myself' - right?" Tony's voice would have seemed flat to anyone who didn't know him, but Peter heard something they would have missed. Understanding.

"Yes," Peter admitted in a shameful whisper. "That's why I was in such a bad mood when I got back. And I'm really sorry, because I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

There was an awkward pause, and Peter wondered if he'd finally crossed some unspoken line. Then Tony stood from his seat, dusting himself off before holding out his arms. "C'mere, kid," he said.

Peter's eyes widened, which he knew was an overreaction but he couldn't _help_ it. Tony Stark was infamous for not hugging people.

"Are you going to make me stand here all day looking like a damn scarecrow?" Tony grumbled. "If so, please tell me so I can plant some corn first."

Peter laughed, then slowly stood before wrapping his arms around the older man. It was nice. Sure, Mr. Stark was a little stiff and was petting his hair like he was a puppy - which was simultaneously weird and comforting - but Peter had never felt more at home. Well, second to his aunt, of course.

Or maybe not.

It was a different kind of home. One needed just as much as any other.

He buried his face in Mr. Stark's shoulders, praying that there were no leftover tears on his face getting the man's clothes wet. He hugged him a little tighter, and a second later, felt the arms around him tighten. "Thank you," he mumbled. "You're the best not-dad I could ever have."

Tony snorted, but didn't let go. "'Not-dad?' Really, kid?" He shook his head, clearly amused. Then his expression grew serious. "I want you to know that what happened to Liliana Varela was not your fault, Pete. I know you've heard it from Karen already, but sometimes we all need a reminder from someone a little more human."

Peter nodded into the man's chest, and he was almost surprised to realize that he believed him. There really _wasn't_ anything else he could have done. That knowledge was… Freeing, in a way. He was by no means completely over his guilt, but it was a start.

The hug lasted a minute longer before Tony pulled away, and though Peter was tempted to protest he chose not to. Mr. Stark was always hesitant about physical contact, and he didn't want to push his luck.

Tony glanced at his watch. "It's almost six, kid. You want to order some pizza? I don't trust this sandwich you made me."

"Hey! I put time and love into that sandwich."

"Pizza or no, kid."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds -" Peter stopped himself, a grin creeping onto his lips. "Actually, I think I have a better idea."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Peter beamed at him. "We should put together a surprise dinner for Ms. Potts! She was really nice and helpful to me today." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "She helped me get the courage to come talk to you, as well as figure out how I was going to do it." He laughed. "She called it teaching me 'the art of dealing with Tony Stark.'"

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter didn't miss the smile dancing on his lips. "Of course she would. But I do like the idea of putting together a surprise meal for her."

Peter clapped his hands together in excitement. "Then let's go!"

xXxXxXx

"Ms. Potts?"

Pepper jumped slightly as FRIDAY's voice echoed in her office. "Yes?"

"There is currently a fire in the kitchen on the sixth floor. I was instructed not to notify you, but my calculations revealed that keeping this information from you would lead to further disaster."

Pepper sighed. "Yes, I can see why." She stood from her desk, brushing herself off. "I'll be down momentarily. Where's the nearest fire extinguisher?"

"There is one inside the kitchen," FRIDAY replied.

"Thank you," Pepper said. She quickly exited her office and took the elevator down to the sixth floor, praying that the kitchen would not resemble post-apocalyptic war grounds by the time she managed to get down there.

The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped out only to be greeted with -

"SURPRISE!"

Pepper froze, eyes wide as she stared at the scene in front of her. The counter was littered with plates of at least ten different breakfast foods. "What's all this?"

Tony and Peter were standing behind the counter, matching grins on their faces.

"It's breakfast for dinner, Ms. Potts," Peter announced proudly. "It's our way of thanking you for helping us out today."

Tony walked over to her, looping his arms around her waist before murmuring in her ear, "And I have an idea for another way of thanking you later."

Pepper rolled her eyes but gave him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away and walking over to the counter, her fiancé a few steps behind her. "How long did it take to prepare all this?"

"Uh… Around two hours?" Peter said, frowning slightly. "I think?"

Pepper shook her head. "You didn't have to go this far. Really. All I did was provide a little encouragement to both of you."

"A little encouragement that helped us both get our heads out of our asses," Tony added, then winced. "Shit. I mean, shoot." He glared at Peter, and Pepper bit back a laugh. "Don't you dare repeat that."

Peter gave him an innocent smile. "I would never."

"Enough chatting," Pepper said, gesturing to the platters of food around her. "I say we eat."

Tony pulled her close to him, trailing his fingers down her spine. "Yes, I think we should."

"Ew," Peter grumbled. "Adults are disgusting."

"What, you don't think your parents should love each other?" Tony asked, smirking.

"Oh my God, I never should have talked to you," Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Ms. Potts, why did I take your advice?"

"Because a child is supposed to listen to his parents," Pepper said innocently. "Isn't he?"

Peter's response was simply to grab a handful of scrambled eggs and throw it at the both of them, thus beginning a war that lasted for nearly forty five minutes. The kitchen was covered in food from top to bottom.

(They ordered pizza in the end.)

xXxXxXx

 **I try so hard not to use parentheses when I write short stories, but I couldn't think of another way to end this one. I hope I was able to write all three of the prompts to satisfaction, and I also hope my meme references weren't too painful for you guys to read. Stick around for more if you aren't bored of me yet! Prompt suggestions are, as always, more than welcome. :)**


	5. Wasted

**It's been a while, hasn't it? But I can't stay away from Iron Dad and Spider Son for long. The Avengers: Endgame trailer made me sad, so of course I decided to finish this oneshot as a result.**

 **I actually had a small epiphany earlier; I was basically berating myself for not keeping everyone in-character all of the time when I write, and then I realized - it doesn't matter. I can write whatever I want because I love writing. Therefore if anyone ever reads one of** _your_ **fics, fellow writers, and complains about OOC-ness, just ignore it. Characterization is relative.**

 **Anyways. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Prompt (from RemoraD on FanFiction):** _Maybe you could write a one-shot in which Peter gets drunk off his ass a party and Tony has to save him._

 **WARNING:** Minor descriptions of sensory overload and implications of an attempt at (date) rape are in this fic. Proceed with caution if you are sensitive to such topics.

xXxXxXx

Peter bit back a startled yelp as his phone started to blast the obnoxious yodeling song Ned had jokingly put as his ringtone. His senses had been on overdrive for the past few days. Maybe he just needed to put his things on vibrate. "Christ," he muttered, picking it up from where he'd carelessly tossed it on the floor and answering. "Yo, what's up?"

"You're living with Tony Stark yet you still answered your phone for me. This is the best day of my life!"

Peter rolled his eyes at the sound of his friend's voice, relaxing. "Ha ha, Ned. You know I'm not around Mr. Stark all the time. And of course I'd answer if it's you! You're my guy in the chair."

"I mean yeah, but - hey, are you in the lab right now?! I want to say hi to Dum-E."

He would never be tired of his friend's rapid fire topic changes. "Nah, I'm in my room," Peter said apologetically. "We can video chat later, though, and I'll let you see him then."

He could practically see Ned beaming all the way from Queens. "So cool, dude."

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." He placed down the simple circuit he'd been working on before moving away from his desk and flopping onto his bed, still somewhat in awe that there was enough room for him to do so in full. "Why'd you actually call me, Ned? I know it wasn't about Dum-E."

"Actually, it _was_ lowkey about Dum-E."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Then what was it _high_ key about?"

Ned snickered before he continued. "Okay. I know you obviously aren't checking the Decathlon group chat anymore, since you're staying with _the_ Tony Stark the entire summer and you're too cool for us -"

"Ned!" Peter interrupted, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. "Dude. Come on. You know it's not like that."

"Yeah, yeah, _sure_ it's not," Ned retorted, though there was no irritation in his voice - only amusement. "Anyways, Flash is throwing a party to celebrate our victory at the Decathlon championship, and he invited everyone on the team plus a few others."

Peter laughed in disbelief. "You're telling me that _Flash_ invited _us_ to his party?"

He could picture Ned shrugging. "Yeah, dude. Although, I'm pretty sure MJ had a hand in it. He definitely has the hots for her, so it wouldn't be hard for her to convince him to do anything." His friend paused, then added, "Well, MJ's pretty scary, so it probably wouldn't have been hard for her to convince him _either_ way."

"First of all, Ned, no one says 'has the hots' anymore," Peter began. "And second, _Flash_ likes MJ? Doesn't she hate his guts?" He didn't know how he felt about Flash liking MJ. It was… Weird, first of all, but he was also silently hoping that MJ did not reciprocate such feelings.

"Yeah, she definitely hates his guts," Ned said dismissively. "Lowkey would kill a man to see MJ destroy him, though."

Peter's jaw dropped at the same time as he tried to laugh, resulting in a strangled squawk, which in turn startled him so much he fell off his bed and onto the floor with a loud _thump_.

"Shit, Peter, are you okay?"

"Ugh," Peter groaned, slowly sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck, ignoring the pounding in his head from the sudden onslaught of noise. Stupid spider senses. "Probably."

"Would you like me to report this incident to Mr. Stark, Peter?" FRIDAY asked. "You may have suffered internal damage."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, FRIDAY. You don't need to bother Mr. Stark for something like this." He was well aware that the man was halfway around the world for a three-day long conference with Ms. Potts. He didn't want to accidentally interrupt anything for an injury he _didn't_ have.

"Whoa, is that Tony Stark's AI you're talking to right now?!"

Peter had almost forgotten Ned was still on the phone. "Yeah. Want to say hi?"

"Hell yeah, dude."

Peter put his friend on speaker before giving him the go ahead. "Have fun."

"Hello, FRIDAY!"

"Hello, Mr. Leeds."

"Holy shit, Tony Stark's personal AI knows my name." Ned paused. "Wait, how does she know my name?"

"Because she's the most advanced AI in the western world," Peter said, laughing. "She knows everything and everyone."

"In addition to this, I have also overheard many calls between you and Peter," FRIDAY added. "Based on prior knowledge of Peter's background as well as voice and facial recognition, identifying you was a simple process."

"God, I wish _I_ had an AI," Ned said mournfully. "Can you imagine how cool that would be?!"

"I don't _have_ to imagine," Peter teased, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I have Karen in my suit, plus I'm able to come and go into Mr. Stark's tower _basically_ as much as I want."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," Ned said. Peter could picture him rolling his eyes. " _Anyways_ , can you come to Flash's party or not? I don't want to be alone."

Peter bit his lip, running a hand through his hair before again collapsing backwards onto his bed, staring up at the unnaturally high ceiling. Part of him was not fond of the idea of parties in general. Flashing lights? Loud music? He could feel nausea setting in already. "I mean, I don't know. May's not here and I don't want to bother Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts and I'm still kind of terrified of Happy even though I shouldn't be -"

"So that's a maybe, then," Ned interrupted. "It's not until tomorrow. Check the group chat for the address and stuff. His parents are _supposedly_ going to be there, if that will make May or Mr. Stark feel better. And even if they're not…" His friend snickered. "Well, MJ's gonna be there. I'm sure she'll keeps things PG. Much to Flash's disappointment."

"I'll talk to someone," Peter replied, lying through his teeth. He wanted to go, yes, because he'd kill to spend time with Ned and he wanted to see for himself how MJ would react around Flash. However, May was out having more fun than she'd had in years, and Mr. Stark was halfway around the world with Ms. Potts. And he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to cope with a loud party with his spider senses… Compromised. Overreacting. Whatever word applied. "Fingers crossed."

"Alright, dude. Call me later while you're in the lab so I can talk with Dum-E!"

Peter laughed. "I will. See ya!"

"Bye!"

Peter hung up, tossing his phone beside him and wincing as it nearly slid off the bed.

"Do you wish to go to that party tomorrow night, Peter?" FRIDAY asked, startling him.

He sighed, sitting up on his bed and pulling his legs into a criss-cross position. "I mean, yes, but I need permission to go. And I have no one to ask. I'll probably just pretend I'm sick." Which wouldn't even entirely be a lie. Part of him wanted nothing more than to bury his face into his pillow. It was the best way to guarantee silence.

"Even though your friend is aware that it is highly improbable if not impossible for you to fall ill?"

"Okay, fair point," Peter admitted after a pause. "But still. I don't want to bother anyone. And I highly doubt I'm going to miss something crucial if I don't go to one of _Flash's_ parties."

"Perhaps. But social interactions are crucial for adolescent development. And you are yet to leave the tower during your stay here in pursuit of spending time with your friends. You have left as Spider-Man five times, and you have left with Mr. Stark approximately a dozen times for various outings. You miss your friends, do you not?"

"Yes, but it's not like I haven't been talking with them or anything," Peter protested. "And it's not for the whole summer, either. So I'm fine."

"Mr. Stark returns from his trip tomorrow night," FRIDAY continued, seemingly ignoring Peter's protests, "around the same time your party is scheduled. I will send him a message asking to approve your request."

"FRIDAY!" Peter sputtered. "Don't bother Mr. Stark -"

"Message sent." Peter did not appreciate how smug the AI sounded. "I recommended that he talk to your aunt as well about rules she has regarding parties."

"Oh my God." Peter grabbed a pillow and slammed it into his face. "Why is my life like this?"

"You are most welcome, Peter."

Peter sighed. Too late to argue. "Can you dim the lights, FRIDAY?"

"Certainly, Peter."

That was better.

xXxXxXx

Tony said his final goodbyes to the people from the conference before leaving, sighing in relief as he stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the seventh floor. "Thank God that's done." Any longer in that conference room and he would have suffocated. He hated the business aspect of his work more than anything, but being that Pepper was currently indisposed… He could make a sacrifice and attend a conference or two for his fiancée.

"FRIDAY, what time is it?" Tony asked, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. His eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and he couldn't be bothered to check his watch.

"10:30 pm, sir," FRIDAY replied from his glasses. "However, I suspect your body has yet to adjust to the time difference, plus the lack of sleep as a result of staying up with Ms. Potts has culminated in a less than desirable physical and mental state."

Tony bit back a laugh. "Right. I couldn't tell." He sighed, stretching and then wincing as his back cracked in multiple places. "Thanks, FRIDAY."

"I recommend you go to sleep as soon as you return to your bedroom, sir. And also sleep during your flight home tomorrow. And when you return to the tower. And -"

This time Tony did laugh. "Okay, I get it. I'll try to sleep." He paused. "But if Pepper can't sleep -"

"My interface notes that Ms. Potts has been sleeping for over an hour now," FRIDAY reassured him. "It is probable that she will not wake until the completion of at least three full sleep cycles."

"Well, that's a relief," Tony murmured, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks, FRI."

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open and he stepped out, moving by muscle memory as he walked to his room, scanning the key card before going in. The lights were dim but not entirely off, and he could see the faint outline of his fiancée on the bed.

"Was she sick at any point before going to sleep?" Tony asked quietly.

"Not since last night, sir. I believe she will enter a full recovery soon."

Tony sighed a breath of relief. Thank God. "Have you figured out what she had?"

"Not yet. But I believe it was simply a more intense form of the stomach flu. She should not suffer any lasting effects."

That was good. It was always difficult for him to see Pepper so… Weak. He changed quickly into more comfortable clothes before sliding into bed beside her. Even with the dim lighting he could see how pale she looked. He gently placed his hand on her forehead, noting that her skin was clammy but not as warm as before. It meant she was breaking her fever - a good sign.

Tony was aware that Pepper was merely ill and nothing else, but for some reason it still reminded him of the numerous hangovers he'd endured throughout his life. Many things did. Defeating his alcoholism had been the hardest thing he'd ever done, and even now that he'd been sober for years, he saw reminders of it every day. This time it happened to manifest itself in the woman he loved more than anything.

"She will be fine, sir," FRIDAY said from where he'd placed his glasses on the dresser. "Get some rest."

"Any messages I should know about before I sleep?" Tony asked, adjusting his pillow. "Updates on Peter from Happy or Rhodey?" There was a long pause - longer than necessary - and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "FRIDAY? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Not exactly, sir," FRIDAY replied. "I have a request from Peter, of sorts. But it can wait until tomorrow morning."

Tony frowned. "In case you've forgotten, FRIDAY, I'm responsible for that kid until his aunt comes back from her cruise. If there's something he needs, then you have to let me know."

"Peter would want you to prioritize your health, Mr. Stark," the AI scolded. "He is aware that you do not receive enough sleep. And if you must know, the message is technically from me. Mr. Parker did not wish to send it to you because he did not want to be a 'bother.' Therefore I will give the message to you tomorrow morning."

Tony sighed. He hated it when FRIDAY had a point. Which was more often than not a majority of the time. "Fine. First thing when I wake up."

"Will do, sir."

xXxXxXx

May groaned, eyes bleary as she stared blankly at her loudly buzzing phone. "Who is calling me at…" She sighed. It was eleven in the morning. She'd slept in. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, then rolled her eyes at the caller ID before answering. "Good morning, Mr. Stark. I must admit, I wasn't expecting you to give me a call."

"Hello, Ms. Parker," Tony said pleasantly. The connection was surprisingly strong for a cruise. "I have a question for you regarding Peter."

May was instantly alert, all drowsiness forgotten at the mention of her nephew. "What? Did something happen? Do you need me to come back?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong," Tony hastily reassured her. "But FRIDAY sent me a message from Peter last night. There's a party he wants to go to for his Decathlon team, and I wanted to know what kind of rules you have set for that sort of thing."

May paused. That was nothing like she'd been expecting. A soft smile danced on her lips. Maybe Tony wasn't so irresponsible after all. "Well, if it's for his Decathlon team, I'm a little more relaxed with my rules. I take it Ned will be going with him?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Uh… Yes. Ned is the one who brought it to his attention, actually."

"I see," May mused. "Well, I'm fine with him going. His curfew can be an hour later and while I _discourage_ him drinking, I wouldn't punish him for having one or two." She sighed tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "What with his enhanced metabolism who knows how alcohol even affects him now."

"Curfew an hour later, one or two drinks is permissible," Tony mumbled. May swore she heard the sound of a pen scratching on paper. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Tell him to stick with Ned and MJ and don't do anything he doesn't want to do," May continued. "Reassure him that he can call you as needed, and remind him to have fun. It is a party, after all."

"Got it," Tony said. He sighed. "Why is taking care of a teenager so stressful?"

May laughed. "Because they have no impulse control. _Especially_ Peter." She glanced at the schedule laying on the dresser beside her bed. "Oh, shit. I was supposed to meet someone five minutes ago on the deck."

"Go enjoy yourself, then," Tony replied. "I'll text you if I have any more questions. Thanks for your help."

"No problem," May said. "Tell Peter I love him, okay?"

"Of course. Enjoy yourself, Ms. Parker."

"Same to you, Mr. Stark." May hung up, the smile on her lips growing wider. Maybe Tony Stark _did_ have a heart, after all.

xXxXxXx

"Hey, Ned, how long do you think I can stand on the wall for?" Peter asked the hologram of his friend that he'd successfully connected to his phone via some handy tech in the lab. Sure, a little hacking had been required, but nothing _too_ complicated. Hopefully Mr. Stark wouldn't find out.

"Fifteen minutes," Ned challenged, beaming excitedly. "I'll start a timer now."

"You're on." Peter smirked and latched himself onto the wall, crawling up closer to where it met the ceiling for better leverage.

"So, have you talked to Mr. Stark or May yet about the party?" Ned asked. "It's in a few hours, and if you have permission, I'm sure I could give you a ride."

Peter bit his lip. "Well, not yet." He'd conveniently 'forgotten' to do so. Selective memory.

Ned groaned. "Dude, if you don't _want_ to go the party, just say so. You won't hurt my feelings. Much."

"It's not that!" Peter protested. Which was entirely a lie. "I already told you. I don't want to bother anyone. Mr. Stark is flying home today. If he gets here before the party, I'll ask him then. If he doesn't, then I think I'll survive even if I _don't_ go."

Ned rolled his eyes. "Alright, dude."

Peter noticed a blue light blinking out of the corner of his eye. "What's that?" he murmured, crawling across the wall to get a better look. "Oh, someone's calling the lab."

"Mr. Stark is calling you, Peter," FRIDAY clarified. "Shall I answer for you so you do not forfeit your bet?"

Peter's eyes widened and he exchanged a panicked glance with Ned, who shrugged helplessly. "I mean, I guess? What does he want?"

"You shall see, Peter."

Peter groaned. "FRIDAY, you told him about the party, didn't you?" FRIDAY didn't answer. "Okay, be like that."

"Be like what? And why the hell are you on the wall of my lab?"

Peter shrieked and nearly lost his grip, managing to regain his balance less than a foot from the floor.

"Ah, c'mon," Ned groaned. "You totally should have fallen off there, dude."

"Ha," Peter smirked. "I told you. My spider senses are impeccable. I will _never_ fall."

"Are you ignoring me, Mr. Parker?"

Peter managed to turn around, wincing in embarrassment at the blue hologram of Tony Stark that was glaring sternly at him. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Uh… What's up? How did your conferences go? How's Ms. Potts? Everything good and all that jazz?"

He rambled when he was nervous.

Peter was able to see that the billionaire was currently on an airplane, based on the small bit of scenery shown via the hologram. He was probably flying back to the states.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I leave you alone for _three_ days and you start climbing all over the walls and hacking into my hologram system. Next time you'll be coming to the conference with me."

"Or maybe next time you shouldn't leave," he grumbled. Then Peter laughed nervously as he realized the implication of that statement. It wasn't like Mr. Stark was his _dad_ or anything. Right?

This wasn't going all that well.

"But, yeah. Sorry about climbing on the wall?" He gestured vaguely behind him. "Ned wanted to see the lab." He turned to look back at his friend, whose jaw had dropped so far it was nearly hitting the floor. "Ned!" he hissed, trying to get him to snap out of it. "It's just Mr. Stark!"

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "As long as you haven't broken anything, kid. The conferences went fine, Pepper is sick but according to FRIDAY she's getting better, so yes. Everything is good and 'all that jazz.'"

Peter frowned, worry decorating his features at the mention of Ms. Potts being sick. "I hope she's back to being herself soon."

Tony sighed, and Peter noticed the dark bags beneath his mentor's eyes. "Me too, kid." There was a pause before he continued. "Anyways. That's not why I called." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I got a message from FRIDAY this morning. Apparently there's some Decathlon party you want to go to?"

Peter winced. Stupid AI. In her defense, he hadn't tried _terribly_ hard to stop her from talking to Mr. Stark, but _still_. "I mean, yeah, but it's not _that_ important and you didn't have to waste so much time calling me -"

"Whoa, slow your roll, Pete," Tony interrupted, holding up a hand to silence him. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine with you going, but I wasn't sure about the rules your unusually attractive aunt has about parties, so I went ahead and gave her a call this morning -"

"Oh my _God_ , Mr. Stark," Peter muttered, burying his burning face in his hands while somehow managing to remain stuck on the wall. "Did you really talk to May?"

"Yes, I did, thank you very much." Tony rolled his eyes. "Teenagers." He sighed in exasperation before continuing. "May says your curfew is extended by one hour, you're allowed to have one or two drinks, stick with Ned and MJ, don't do anything you don't want to do, and have fun. She also told you to call me if you need something, and she also says she loves you."

Yep, that sounded like his aunt. "Okay, thank you Mr. Stark, but I'm sure you're busy so you can hang up now -"

"Ah, no, the adult has not finished speaking," Tony interrupted. "I'm adding a few rules of my own. No being Spider-Man, don't do stupid shit, and use protection if you get that far."

At that, Peter felt his face burn red brighter than Hester Prynne's scarlet letter and promptly fell off the wall, groaning as his back slammed onto the concrete lab floor. "Mr. Stark! Why - what - who -!" He sighed. "Ugh. You are the worst."

Tony ignored his sputtering but Peter didn't miss the smirk dancing on the man's lips. "I've told Happy when to drive you there as well as when to pick you up. Have fun, Spiderling. Call me if you need me, have fun, blah blah blah." With that, he hung up.

Ned didn't hold back his laughter any longer. "I cannot believe you just got lectured by _the_ Tony Stark, man."

"Yeah, well, his lectures are pretty commonplace." Peter grumbled, shaking his head. "He's the most _extra_ person in the entire universe, I _swear_."

"At least you get to go to the party now!" Ned said enthusiastically. "It's going to be fun, dude, I'm sure."

Peter disagreed, not that he was going to say it out loud. He didn't trust Flash, even if Ned claimed MJ and persuaded him to invite the two of them. He was also well aware that spider senses plus flashing lights and bass-filled music created a recipe for disaster. "I hope so."

"Wait a minute. You fell off the wall." Peter turned around to see his friend smirking at him. "I won the bet."

Peter pouted, fully aware he looked like a child. "I _would_ have won if it weren't for Mr. Stark!"

Ned scoffed. "Yeah, _right_."

Peter jumped up from the floor. "Alright, then! Best two out of three."

"You are _so_ on."

xXxXxXx

Tony sighed as he tucked his phone into his pocket before leaning back in the stiff airplane seat. Maybe he hadn't ended that conversation on the most gracious note. Well… Too late, he supposed. He then turned to look at his fiancée, who gave him a tired smile.

"Peter is almost as lucky to have you as you are to have him," she murmured as he kissed her softly on the forehead. "You're like a dad, you know that?"

He managed a small smile. "If you say so, Ms. Potts." 'Dad' was an intimidating word for Tony Stark. He'd never been around a real one. And there weren't any instruction manuals on how to be a father figure, either. He would know; he'd searched for them.

"Mmm, don't pretend you're not," Pepper said, eyes closed as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I know you'd drop everything in a heartbeat for him."

Tony felt a genuine smile creep onto his lips. "Yeah. I would."

xXxXxXx

"Are you ready, kid?"

Peter could hear Happy's voice from inside his room despite the fact that the man had only just reached the foot of the stairs. Every now and then enhanced hearing could be useful. "Almost!" he called, frantically digging through a pile of clothes to find the watch Mr. Stark had given him with Karen programmed inside. Now was as good a time as any to keep it on hand. Just in case.

"Hurry up!"

Peter groaned in exasperation. "I _am_ hurry up-ing," he mumbled under his breath, not daring to be louder and risk facing Happy's wrath. The man did _not_ live up to his name.

Less than two minutes later Peter found the watch, sliding it onto his wrist and fiddling with assorted buttons while simultaneously rushing down the stairs to the garage where Happy was waiting for him.

"Took you long enough," the man grumbled as he pulled open the door of the car. Peter noted that the man's irritated tone did not match the amusement in his eyes. "Get in before I change my mind."

Peter nodded, doing as instructed without hesitation. As per usual, Happy closed the window connecting the front to the back. For once, Peter didn't mind. Now he could mess with the watch from Mr. Stark without hearing any complaints.

"Let's see," he mumbled, clicking on a knob resting on the side. He vaguely recalled Mr. Stark showing him how to activate and use the watch, but he'd been distracted by the looming prospect of a physics exam at the time. In other words, Peter was now guessing and checking and praying something would work.

Fortunately, the watch was not complicated. A few more clicks and twists, and he'd successfully summoned Karen.

"Hello, Peter," his AI said. "How are you doing today?"

As per usual when he was under stress, Peter word-vomited.

"I'm going to a party right now and I'm freaking out because it's my second high school party and I really don't know how many people I'm going to know there because Flash probably invited people not from Decathlon oh and Flash likes MJ and she doesn't like him I think and there might be alcohol there Karen what do I do?!"

There was a long pause.

"Does this mean you are no longer interested in Liz?"

Peter groaned. "Karen, was that all you understood?"

His watch vibrated on his wrist, which he suspected was the AI's version of laughter. "Well, your other questions are much easier to answer, Peter. Stick with your friend Ned, don't drink alcohol, and do not leave your cup unattended."

Peter sighed. It didn't seem as complicated when Karen explained it. "I guess you're right." He was tempted to ask his AI about how to deal with his… Sensory issues, but he knew she reported to Mr. Stark, and he didn't want the billionaire to think that he couldn't handle himself.

"Will you explain to me what has caused your disinterest in Liz?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're pretty nosy for an AI." He sighed a second time. "It's not like I _dislike_ Liz or anything. If she hadn't moved away, I'd probably still be interested in her. But…" He groaned. "She hates me now. So it would be a lost cause no matter what."

"And who is MJ?" Karen inquired. "I have heard you mention her before, but never as a romantic prospect. She must be a stunning individual to have attracted your attention."

Peter smiled, thinking of his friend. "Stunning is one word for it. She's just so smart, you know? And really confident. I'm pretty sure she writes a new report every day about the state of the country and what can be done to make it better."

"If you like her so much, than you should ask her out," Karen suggested.

"I - I can't do that!" Peter stammered. "She's just a friend."

"If she is 'just a friend,' as you say, then why are you so concerned about Flash Thompson seeking her as a potential partner?"

Peter did not have an answer for that. "Because she deserves better than him," he finally said. "And better than me, too."

"I am skeptical of that statement, Peter," Karen said. "You are a unique individual. You are also Spider-Man, whether or not she is aware of this. I am sure MJ likes you as much as you like her."

Peter shook his head, laughing. "You're really supportive for an AI." He paused, frowning. "That came out wrong. Like, compared to FRIDAY, you know? She and Mr. Stark are always back and forth sniping at each other. In a good way, of course. But you're so…" He shrugged. "Nice, I guess. Which is a good thing! A really good thing."

"It is how Mr. Stark programmed me to be," Karen replied. "Support is necessary for adolescent development."

Huh. Peter hadn't really thought about how Mr. Stark had designed Karen for him. It was… Odd, kind of. On the surface, Tony Stark didn't seem like the kind of person to put much effort into designing an AI for a teenager he'd only met once at that point in time.

"You have almost arrived at your destination, Peter," Karen said, interrupting his thoughts. "I will be here if you need anything. Perhaps if you wish to show off to your friend Ned, or if you desire further advice on how to talk to MJ."

"Thanks, Karen," Peter said before turning off his watch. Sure enough, less than a minute later Happy pulled up in front of a two-story house, the front of which was decorated with Grecian-style columns.

"Do you remember the rules Tony and your aunt set for you?" Happy asked, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. "I was told to go over them with you, but you're a smart kid, so…"

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks for driving me, Happy."

"No problem, kid. I'll be back at midnight to pick you up, unless Tony decides to come himself. See you then."

Peter winced at the thought of Mr. Stark picking him up from Flash Thompson's house. He didn't know whether it would get Flash to leave him alone or instead make everything worse. "Bye, Happy." As the man drove off, he started to make his way to the front door, only to be stopped by someone pulling him backwards.

"Dude, was that one of Tony Stark's cars you got dropped off in?!"

Peter relaxed as he realized the person grabbing him was Ned, not some random stranger. "Uh, kinda?" he said, laughing. "Happy drove me, but I guess it was technically one of Mr. Stark's cars."

"That is so awesome," Ned said, his eyes wide. "Peter, you have the coolest life ever."

Peter snickered, already feeling more comfortable around his best friend, though the gnawing anxiety still remained. "If you're extra nice to me, I'll let you talk to my _personal_ AI later." He held up his wrist, the watch flashing in the light. "Mr. Stark programmed Karen into here for me, that way my access isn't limited by the suit."

Ned beamed at him in excitement. "Really?! Dude, that's awesome!"

They paused their conversation as they reached the entrance, Peter being the one to reach out and ring the doorbell. A moment later the door opened, creaking loudly - much to the dismay of Peter's enhanced hearing - and revealing the one and only Flash Thompson.

"Huh," Flash sneered. "Didn't think you'd actually come. Whatever." He stepped aside to let them in. "Drinks are in the kitchen. Try not to break anything."

Peter nodded hastily and walked in, Ned following suit. Both were eager to distance themselves as much as possible from Flash.

As they walked further into the house, Peter couldn't help but flinch as the deep pounding of the bass became a dull throbbing in his skull. He _thought_ he'd gotten better about controlling his sensory intake to avoid overload, but he hadn't tested it out this kind of party before. Hopefully it wouldn't be _too_ awful.

The two entered the living room, and Peter had to resist the urge to gag at the reeking smell of alcohol that permeated the room.

He'd jinxed himself. Typical Parker luck.

"Yeah, there's no way everyone here is from Decathlon," Ned mumbled, nose wrinkled in disgust as he stared at the people grinding on each other. "But I guess we should have seen that coming."

Peter nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth without throwing up. Was he really the _only_ one who could smell it?

"Hey, losers."

They turned around to see MJ leaning against the wall, cup in hand.

"I'm glad you guys came," she said simply. Peter couldn't stop himself from staring at the loose curls framing her face, immediately distracting him from the disgusting smell permeating the room. "I didn't want to hang around a bunch of drunks for hours by myself." She started walking away, gesturing for them to follow her. "Come on. I can show you where the non-alcoholic drinks are."

Peter looked at Ned, who shrugged. They followed the girl past the kitchen and down a set of stairs into what seemed to be a basement. Sure enough, there was a small fridge tucked away in a corner. Peter was relieved to note that the smell of alcohol did not reach into the room, and while he could hear the music, it was mostly subdued by the walls.

"Here," MJ said, taking out two cans of Sprite and tossing one to each of them. "A sugar high is preferable to being wasted any day."

It was silent as the three stood in a weird triangle formation, each sipping at their Sprite.

Peter had never felt so awkward in his life. Finally, he said, "So… Anyone want to meet Karen?"

xXxXxXx

Tony shut the bedroom door quietly behind him, not wanting to disturb Pepper's rest. He then made his way downstairs to one of the tower's living rooms, where Rhodey was resting on the couch, fiddling with one of his leg braces. "Are they acting up?"

Rhodey chuckled. "Nah. They're perfect. I'm trying to get a better understanding of how they work."

Tony laughed, sitting down next to his friend. "If memory serves, I've already explained to you the technology behind them."

Rhodey shrugged. "Sometimes I need a simple explanation in layman's terms."

Tony shook his head, amused. Silence fell. Part of him knew that he shouldn't be awake at that moment, but his rampant imagination refused to let him sleep for fear of what could happen to his fiancée if he wasn't awake to catch it.

"She's going to be alright, Tony," Rhodey said softly, reaching out and squeezing the billionaire's shoulder. "Take it easy. You're back home."

Tony nodded, not wanting to speak.

"Is Peter here?" Rhodey asked after a pause. "It seems unnaturally quiet."

Tony chuckled. It was true that ever since Peter had started staying at the tower, things had been a lot more… Energetic. "Happy took him to a party." He glanced at his watch. "He should be back in an hour or two. Maybe I'll pick him up. Poetic justice, considering how many kids don't believe Peter knows me."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic."

"The audacity," Tony said in mock offense. "Me? Dramatic? Never in my life." He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. "I hope Peter's having fun. When I called him earlier to talk to him about the party, he didn't seem terribly enthused about going."

"Because he's fifteen, a nerd, and is therefore entirely unexperienced in social situations," Rhodey said. "Also, he's Spider-Man, not to mention the sole high school intern of the famous Anthony Edward Stark."

Tony smirked. "Don't let him know _you_ know his secret identity." Peter was yet to officially tell Rhodey that he was Spider-Man, though there was some sort of unspoken understanding between them. Rhodey hadn't had much difficulty putting two and two together.

"Not gonna lie, Tones, I'm almost surprised you allowed him to go that party," Rhodey said. "I presume there's alcohol, right?" He cast the man a sideways glance. "I know you… Struggle with that, sometimes."

Tony flinched, recalling multiple times when he drank himself into weeklong oblivions. "Peter's smarter than me." He paused. "He's _better_ than me."

"Damn right he is," Rhodey snorted, earning a swat from Tony. "Hey, you said it yourself. And besides - I'm always right."

Tony shook his head, smiling. "Aren't you always?"

"Exactly."

xXxXxXx

"This is actually really cool," MJ admitted after a half hour of examining Peter's watch and talking to Karen. "I wouldn't have thought Tony Stark would have put so much effort into creating an AI for his intern." She offered him a rare smile. "No offense, of course."

Peter laughed nervously, exchanging a knowing look with Ned. It was easy to forget how few people knew he was Spider-Man. "None taken. I wouldn't have expected it either, when I first met him. But now…" He shrugged. "Mr. Stark is really thoughtful, especially compared to what the media shows of him. At least most of the time."

"Indeed," Karen added. "I have numerous samples of footage in which Mr. Stark shows Peter a rare display of affection, if you are interested in viewing such."

MJ smirked wickedly at him. "I would definitely be -"

"Not interested in the slightest!" Peter interrupted with a yelp, frantically clicking the button on his watch that would turn off his AI. "I think that's enough of talking to Karen for tonight. You probably have enough blackmail on me to last a year now."

Ned snickered as MJ rolled her eyes and took a sip of her Sprite.

"Can't keep any secrets with technology," Peter grumbled, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling. Karen may only have been an AI, but he had grown very fond of her.

"As long as Stark isn't being a total asshole, there's not much more I can ask for," MJ said with a shrug. "But when you inherit Stark Industries I expect some _major_ changes, Peter."

Peter nearly spit out his Sprite. " _Me_? Inherit Stark Industries? Why would I -"

"Why the hell would Penis Parker inherit Stark Industries?"

Peter winced. They'd been caught.

"Because Peter is Tony Stark's favorite intern," Ned said, though his voice was shaky.

Flash rolled his eyes, the two others beside him that Peter didn't recognize crossing their arms nearly in perfect unison. "As if. Everyone knows Parker isn't even employed at SI."

Peter did _not_ feel like arguing with Flash. It never ended well.

"Whatever, Flash," MJ said, pushing past him and his two goons and marching up the stairs. "No need to project your insecurities about not having a well-paying job in the future because of a lack of connections onto Peter."

Peter and Ned seized the teen's moment of shock to follow MJ up the stairs and back into the main room of the house.

For Peter that unfortunately meant being slammed in the face with the smell of alcohol and the sound of screaming teenagers, but he supposed it was preferable to Flash.

Mostly.

"That was an epic roast, MJ," Ned said, eyes wide in amazement. "I don't understand how you think of those things on the spot."

MJ raised an eyebrow, pausing with her Sprite halfway to her lips. "I don't. I think of witty comebacks instead of sleeping and then record them in a journal for future reference."

Peter blinked, exchanging a surprised look with Ned. In all honesty, he had no idea whether she was serious or not.

He felt himself tuning out as Ned began pestering MJ about "telling him the truth." The loud music was really starting to register with him, and it was hard to ignore the sweaty bodies inching uncomfortably close to him as they danced. He didn't understand how his friends could just… Endure it.

Yeah, he definitely needed to invest more time in working out a solution to his sensory issues. There had to be a better method than simply pushing it down and hoping it would go away.

Peter felt like he was wading through waist-deep water. Everything was in slow motion as he followed Ned and MJ through the crowd. Did he know where they were going? No. But neither did he care. Lights kept flashing in front of his eyes like a dozen camera bulbs going off. Then something distracted him.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Flash staring at MJ almost… Hungrily. It was disturbing to see his friend… Objectified. Like she was a toy.

Peter didn't know what was going to happen, but the warning bells going off in the back of his head told him it was not going to be good.

He felt like he was in a trance as he watched Flash approach them and rudely shove Ned aside, getting up in MJ's personal space far closer than could be considered 'necessary.' Ned muttered something to him, but Peter couldn't hear what it was. All he could do was watch.

Watch Flash slip something into MJ's drink.

Peter knew he _shouldn't_ have seen it. The average person would not have noticed unless they had been looking for it and the fact of the matter was that _no one_ would have been looking for it. Sure, he despised Flash with every bone in his body, but he never would have pegged him as the kind of person to roofie a girl.

Peter's heart dropped into his stomach and the warning bells screamed the loudest he'd ever heard them before as he watched MJ take a sip of her Sprite, glaring at Flash while she did so.

She had no idea.

Flash grabbed her arm and started trying to pull her away, undoubtedly to an empty bedroom somewhere in the house.

Peter couldn't just stand there. He couldn't do _nothing_ as MJ was drugged and dragged away and... And… And something worse might happen.

Peter pinched his wrist, forcing himself to snap out of whatever haze he'd allowed himself to get trapped in. "Ned," he hissed, pulling his friend aside while still keeping an eye on MJ as she flipped Flash off and yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Flash put something in MJ's drink."

Ned's eyes widened. "What?!"

"Shh," he said, covering his friend's mouth with his hand. "I don't want Flash to know that we know."

"Well, what do we do?" Ned whispered, concern evident in his voice. "I knew he had a thing for MJ, but… Never thought he'd go _that_ far."

"He's probably drunk," Peter replied. "Not that I'm trying to excuse his actions. But that's probably why he thinks he's allowed to pull that kind of bullshit." He took a deep breath. He would not be overwhelmed. He would not be overwhelmed. He was Spider-Man. He was a hero. And heroes didn't get overwhelmed by a stupid party. "Okay. I'm gonna distract Flash, and you're going to get MJ out of here, understand?" He paused then added begrudgingly, "And you should probably call Happy or Mr. Stark. I don't want to bother either of them but… MJ's safety is priority. Who knows what he put into her drink."

Ned nodded, but worry was evident in his features. "Alright. Good luck, dude."

Peter managed a smile but no words escaped his lips.

He'd need all the luck he could get.

xXxXxXx

Ned watched in dumbfounded horror as Peter, his best friend and possibly the smartest person he knew, challenged Flash Thompson to a _drinking_ contest. Sure, it definitely qualified as a distraction, but it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting.

What was also surprising was that Flash _accepted_. Then again, he was probably halfway to being completely wasted already. Ned decided to seize the moment and grab MJ's arm, pulling her out of Flash's reach.

"What the hell is Paker thinking?!" she whispered furiously to him. "If he gets drunk off his ass and does something stupid there isn't _shit_ I can do to help him!"

Ned decided not to mention that Peter probably couldn't get drunk. As least not in a normal sense. "Flash put something in your drink," he explained hastily. "Only Peter saw him do it, but you drank it before he could let you know so to distract Flash he's challenged him to a drinking contest and he told me to get you out of here so that's what I'm gonna do."

The blood drained from MJ's face, and her drink fell from her limp hand and onto the floor. "Flash put… He… I'm an idiot," she murmured, not protesting as Ned started helping her out of the room. "I should have been paying closer attention." She wrapped her available arm around herself. "What if he'd… What if…" Something that sounded like a sob escaped her lips. "Oh my God."

Ned had never heard the confident Michelle Jones sound so broken before. He never wanted to hear it again, either. "It's not your fault, MJ. You can't blame what _might_ have happened but thankfully didn't on yourself. It was all Flash. You're going to be fine."

MJ shrugged as they stepped out the door and made it outside onto the front porch of the house. The air was still. Quiet, even with the low thumping of the bass from inside. "Others might blame me anyways." She ran a hand through her hair. "And whatever happens to Peter is also on me. Because I was _stupid_ enough to not be paying attention." She buried her head in her hands, curls falling down and hiding her face.

Ned helped her sit on the first step, unsure of how to respond. He ultimately said nothing, instead taking off his jacket and placing it on her shoulders. She needed the warmth more than him.

Now the hardest part.

Calling Tony Stark.

Well, Happy Hogan.

He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling until he found the man's contact. "Hope he picks up," he mumbled as he hit 'call.' Then he waited, feeling the anxiety rise in his chest with each ring. Then, a click. His heart stopped.

"Hello?"

Ned exhaled a sigh of relief. "Mr. Happy Hogan, sir?"

"Yes," the man grumbled. "And who is this?"

"I'm Ned Leeds, Peter's best friend. There's a bit of a situation at the party you took him to."

The man mumbled several expletives under his breath, some of which Ned was not aware existed. "Great. Okay. Fill me in, then."

"Well, there's this kid Flash who's been an asshole to Peter for like ten years now, and he tried to roofie our friend MJ, and she didn't notice and already drank some but Peter managed to distract Flash by challenging him to a drinking contest so I was able to get MJ out of the house but Peter is still in there probably getting at _least_ tipsy and there's nowhere I can really bring MJ for her to sleep off the drug and stuff so I'd appreciate it very much if you could come rescue us. Sir."

The silence seemed to extend for a lifetime.

"Shit. Okay," Happy finally said, and Ned felt his shoulders slump in relief. "I'll be there as quickly as I can. Stay with your friend MJ; Peter's less likely to get drunk than the average person and you don't want anything to happen to the girl while you aren't there."

"Y-Yes sir," he stammered.

"Be patient and I'll be there as soon as I can. Got it?"

"R-Right."

The man hung up, and Ned very slowly placed his phone into his pocket.

Despite the weakened state she seemed to be in, MJ managed a laugh. "You don't do very well in the face of authority, do you?"

Ned gave her a sheepish grin. "That obvious?"

MJ snorted. "It's painful to watch."

Quiet fell, and Ned eventually sat down next to his friend.

"I hope Peter's okay," MJ finally said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she stared up at the starry night sky.

Ned nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Me too."

xXxXxXx

Tony sighed as his phone started to buzz on the couch next to him. "Why is someone calling me at 10:30 at night? Aren't sane people usually asleep?"

Rhodey shrugged. "I don't know. Answer and find out."

Tony rolled his eyes but picked up his phone, frowning as he realized who it was before he answered. "What's up, Happy? Something wrong?"

"Tony, there's a bit of a situation."

Tony recognized the sound of a car horn honking. "Happy, are you driving?"

"Yes, but that's not important. It's Peter."

Tony froze. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins as time slowed to a crawl around him. He started catastrophizing, thinking about everything that could have gone wrong and what could have happened to Peter at that stupid, _stupid_ party.

"As far as I know, he's okay," Happy added. "I know you're freaking out, so stop right now. But if you don't get over there asap, things could go downhill."

Tony took a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay." He ran a hand through his hair as he stood, tapping at his arc reactor. His suit melded around him and he tossed his phone the couch, the call transferring to his helmet. "Fill me in and give me the address."

"Way ahead of you. Already sent the address to FRIDAY."

Rhodey hadn't moved from his seat, but his eyebrows were furrowed with worry. "I expect an explanation when you return, Tones."

Tony nodded before making his way to the balcony and flying off into the night, FRIDAY setting the coordinates and giving him directions as he did so.

"Basically, Peter's friend MJ was roofied," Happy explained. Tony heard a muffled curse and the sound of tires swerving. "Peter noticed but not before she'd already drank some. He had his friend Ned get her out of there, and in order to distract the guy who'd drugged the girl, he challenged him to a drinking contest."

Tony couldn't stop himself from shuddering at the mention of a drinking contest, but his disgust shifted to frustration. "What the _hell_ was he thinking?!"

"Peter's enhanced metabolism, in theory, prevents him from getting completely and totally wasted, which Peter is probably aware of. I guess a drinking contest seemed to be a better option to him than a fistfight." There was another pause and the sound of tires squealing before he continued. "Anyways, I'm going to pick up his friends as fast as I can. I think you should be the one to get Peter."

Tony internally debated how wise it would be to carry Peter back to the tower via the Iron Man suit, but ultimately reasoned that speed was key and flying was the fastest way to guarantee haste. "Alright. I'm almost there."

"Good luck."

xXxXxXx

Peter was having the time of his _life_.

All his senses had dulled from an eleven to a two by the time he was on the third bottle of… Of what? Beer? Vodka? Some ungodly combination of the two? It had been a long time since he'd felt so completely and utterly relaxed. Sure, his head was pounding, but the lights weren't blinding and there weren't a thousand sounds flooding his ears all at once. The smell of alcohol had also completely vanished.

So yeah. It was nice.

The drinking game had long since been abandoned. He'd beaten Flash by a landslide - Peter had barely been buzzed by his fourth cup while Flash had collapsed on the floor.

He didn't think he was going to keep drinking. Really, he didn't. But the quiet that came with each sip… It was so hard to resist.

Peter frowned as he realized the bottle in his hand was now empty. Disappointing. He turned around, muttering a slurred curse as he stumbled and nearly fell, managing to regain his balance at the last moment.

"Mmm, you're cute," some girl purred that he didn't recognize. "Wanna come home with me, pretty boy?"

Peter pushed past her, not caring about whatever she had to say or wanted to do. All he needed was another drink. Quiet. He wanted everything and everyone to stop and be _quiet_.

But Peter had never had much luck. He was just about to get his hands on another bottle when a loud crash echoed through the house, following by a clanking that could only be… "Oh, _shit_."

"Watch your language, Mr. Parker."

Peter winced, slowly turning around to see the familiar red Iron Man armor staring him down. "H-Hey, Mr. Stark."

The party had gone silent now. Peter could feel everyone's eyes on them, even in his inebriated state.

"Hey yourself, Mr. Parker," Tony snapped, and Peter flinched. "You're coming with me."

Peter didn't protest. He didn't dare to.

He'd screwed up. He'd screwed up like he never had before.

Peter was silent the entire way back to the tower, even though dangling hundreds of feet above the ground secured only by a man in a suit of armor wasn't terribly reassuring. Maybe it was because his brain was oozing out his ears and his head had been stuffed with cotton and his senses had been dulled to the point that nothing could bother him.

Yeah, that was probably why.

He must've passed out, because he shut his eyes for a moment yet somehow went from being flown through the sky to being set down in the main room of the tower.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Peter?!" Tony demanded, his armor returning into his arc reactor, revealing an angry glare that made Peter flinch. "You were given permission for one _drink_ , not one _barrel_! Do you have any idea how much _danger_ you put yourself in?!"

Peter didn't answer immediately. His head was still swimming. Finally, he asked, "Is MJ okay?"

Tony faltered. Then his shoulders fell. "Yes. Happy took her home and explained everything to her parents. They're just relieved she's okay." He sighed. "I wish I could say the same about you, Pete." He wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders. "C'mon, kid. Let's get you to bed. Lectures can wait until morning."

And that was the last thing Peter remembered.

xXxXxXx

Tony woke up at exactly 6:17 the following day, despite having gone to sleep only three hours earlier. That had been a trend for the past few days, though he didn't know why. Pepper was still sleeping beside him; unsurprising, considering she was still recovering. Rhodey never woke up until ten on his days off; Happy had probably gone to work already.

On any other day, Peter would have been awake, too. But based on his condition last night… Well, he had no idea.

God, Tony had never seen the kid look so _dead_. Alcohol was beyond detrimental to a person's appearance. Peter's face had looked so pale and, and so _haggard_ , and the look of defeat in his eyes… It looked so familiar. Reminded Tony of himself in every way he despised. In every way that he tried to destroy and bury under a rock and forget.

Tony never wanted to see that look again.

He carefully slid out of bed, being careful not to disturb his sleeping fiancée. He waited until he was fully out of their room and in the elevator before he spoke to FRIDAY. "Is Peter awake yet?"

"Yes sir," FRIDAY said after a pause. "He is currently in his room. He has just woken up."

Tony nodded. "Right. Let me know when he leaves."

"Yes sir. In case you were wondering, Peter did not awaken during the night. But I believe he is currently suffering from a hangover."

Tony snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised." The kid had _reeked_ of alcohol. It was enough to make any normal person gag. But of course he couldn't have a normal kid - it had to be one who'd been bitten by a goddamn radioactive spider.

"I wouldn't be too harsh on him, sir," FRIDAY said. "At least allow him to explain his side of the story, first."

Tony said nothing as he stepped out of the elevator. At that point he'd didn't know what he planned to say to Peter. "We'll see, FRIDAY."

xXxXxXx

Peter's head felt as if it had been stuffed with lead, and yet somehow he could hear every single sound around him. The shuffling of someone's feet, the creaking of an elevator, and dripping of a brewing coffee pot. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the light leaking through the curtains.

He needed to find a better coping mechanism.

"How are you feeling, Peter?" FRIDAY asked.

Peter flinched at the volume. "Can you… Turn it down some, FRIDAY?" His voice sounded raspier than he expected.

"Certainly, Peter."

He felt his body relax as it got quieter. He noticed the lights dim slightly, too. "Thanks, FRIDAY."

"Not a problem, Peter. Have your senses been more alert as of late?"

He shrugged, wincing as the throbbing in his head sharpened for a second before fading. "I guess. It happens every now and then. I usually just wait it out. It never lasts more than a week or two."

"Have you considered talking to Mr. Stark about this issue?" FRIDAY suggested. "Perhaps he could help you develop an alternative to… Drinking."

Peter winced at the memory of last night. He hadn't meant to go _that_ far. He just wanted… Relief. To be numb. "Yeah. I could."

"I won't tell you what to do," FRIDAY said. "But I do advise speaking with him. He is in the kitchen at the moment."

Peter hesitated, then nodded. "Right." It took him a few tries to successfully climb out of bed without the world spinning around him. After what had to have been close to twenty minutes, he managed to get himself in a moderately more presentable condition - clean clothes, and hair and teeth brushed. He must have completely zoned out while he was walking, because all of a sudden he was in the kitchen, standing twenty feet away from a tired-looking Tony Stark.

"Good morning, kid," he said, taking a sip from a cheaply-made Iron Man mug. "Sit down?"

Peter nodded and did as instructed, not daring to speak. Then again, he'd never been good at making it through an awkward silence. A question came to mind. "How is Ms. Potts doing?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, almost surprised that Peter had spoken. Then he chuckled. "I should be asking that question about you, Mr. Parker. But she's doing fine. Still sleeping. Knowing her she'll try to get work done today."

Peter managed a small smile. "Ms. Potts is probably the most dedicated person in the world."

This time Tony laughed. "Agreed."

Peter bit his lip, casting his gaze toward the ground. This was going to be awkward. "Um… Mr. Stark?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I… Is it okay if…" God, words were hard. "Should I talk about last night?"

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, placing his coffee mug on the counter. "Not going to lie, Pete, I'm thankful you brought it up. I didn't know how to approach that." He ran a hand through his hair. "Kid, I almost… Tore into you last night. But I don't want to be like my father, and that's something he would have done. So yes. I want you to tell me everything. From your perspective."

Peter nodded, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto his lips. "Okay, Mr. Stark." He began twisting the string of his hoodie. "I guess you already know most of the story. With MJ and stuff. Trying to create a distraction. But afterwards… I _kept_ drinking."

Tony snorted. "That you did, kid."

Peter managed a laugh. "Yeah. It was just… _Nice_. It made everything quiet. And numb." He sighed. "My senses have been dialed up lately. It happens every now and then. At first I really did just want to get attention away from MJ, but I realized that drinking… Made it all go away. And I haven't felt everything go away like that since before I was bitten by that spider."

"Yeah," Tony muttered, staring down into his coffee. "Alcohol will do that, kid."

"Are you… Are you angry?" Peter asked tentatively. He wasn't sure how well he could handle being yelled at. Especially since his head was yet to stop pounding.

Tony shrugged. "Not sure yet. But." He stood up from his chair. "Follow me. We're going to the lab. I don't want you to cope with sensory overload through drinking. I'm sure together we can work out a better solution."

Peter's eyes widened, and he couldn't stop himself from beaming at the older man. "Thank you, Mr. Stark!"

Tony gave him a soft smile. "You're welcome, kid."

And they did find a better solution. Not immediately, of course. But after a few hours - and several reminders from Rhodey to eat something, _damn it_ \- they'd successfully designed a pair of headphones and a pair of glasses that in theory would cut down on Peter's overload issues.

Tony had also given him a lengthy lecture on the dangers of alcoholism, as well as recipes for hangover cures. Black coffee definitely worked, Peter learned, but he _God_ did he hate it.

Before he knew it, it was nearly midnight. He and Tony had long since abandoned the lab. Currently the older man was snoring on the couch beside him, arm wrapped around Peter's shoulders. Pepper and Rhodey had already retired to bed. M*A*S*H reruns flickered quietly on the TV.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from MJ.

 _MJ: Thanks, loser._

Peter smiled as he leaned back, relaxing into Mr. Stark's warmth.

 _Peter: You're welcome :)_

Everything was finally quiet.

xXxXxXx

 **I hope you enjoyed this oneshot! Not going to lie; it was wild to write. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending and I think it had less Iron Dad and Spider Son content than usual, so I'll try to make up for that in the next oneshot. But I couldn't help but include some Pepperony and inklings of Spideychelle. Prompt requests are on hold until I catch up; if you choose to leave a prompt, I will take note of it, but I probably won't write it for a while (unless it gets combined with another one). Until next time, and thank you for reading!**

 **Fun Fact (that I couldn't fit in the story):** _Tony Stark's rapid arrival and departure was ultimately considered to be a mass hallucination by the teens at the party. People still refuse to believe that Peter is an intern at SI._


	6. Um, Who Is That

**This is the longest single piece of writing (over 20,000 words?! how?!) I have written as of December 31, 2018, and it is all thanks to you, my lovely readers. Every comment you leave gives me motivation to continue even when sometimes I'm not sure I can. Thank you for comments, favorites, follows,** ** _everything_** **.**

 **A little self-promo here: you can catch me on Tumblr** starkravinghazelnoots **(Marvel) and** thinkingisadangerouspastime **(shitposts). I plan to start posting a few drabbles on there if you want to give me a follow.**

 **I combined three different prompts for this oneshot; I hope you don't mind. I think overall I actually like how it turned out!**

 **Prompt (suggested by PrincessNaina on FanFiction):** _How about a one shot where Tony takes Peter out for ice cream, or something, and the paparazzi turn up and then Aunt May calls and it all kind of descends into chaos?_ **I changed going out for ice cream to going out for dinner.**

 **Prompt (suggested by camelot1995 on FanFiction):** _Can you please write one where Peter has plans to go to a Star Wars convention with Ned, but he gets sick or something and can't go so Tony takes Peter instead? And then afterwards they go to the lab and try to make real lightsabers? I'd really love to hear the crap that Tony would give Peter for his nerdiness (like if he went all out with a Han Solo or young Anakin Skywalker costume)._ **I changed a Star Wars convention to the D23 Expo because I don't know enough about Star Wars to make it be the only thing the convention was about (I know, I know - I'm terribly uncultured. My bad).**

 **Prompt (suggested by SapphireSwan on AO3):** _As for a prompt, how about the Rogue Avengers come back and chill in Tony's living room, meaning to surprise him/talk to him, but Peter comes in and, well, Is Peter™️ and the avengers are convinced that Peter is Tony's son. (The matching red streaks don't help.)_

 **Notes:** I live for petulant Wanda, so she's a bit of a bitch throughout this oneshot (in a fun way, I think). If you like Wanda to be a sweet and pure angel, this is _not_ the fic for you. Also, if you don't read Wanda's voice with a thick Serbian accent (aka what they _initially_ gave her in the MCU before stopping randomly), then you aren't living life to the fullest. Also, I don't care that they said Wanda is a teenager; Elizabeth Olsen looks _nothing_ like a 16-year-old, so Wanda is 23 in my book.

 **I hope you enjoy!**

xXxXxXx

"Well, that is absolute bullshit," Tony muttered, not bothering to look at his friend. He kept his attention on the webshooter he was trying to fix for Peter, who had accidentally broken it on his last Spider-Man outing. "If I said that I hated everyone and everything in the entire goddamn universe, would you deem me too dramatic, dear?"

Rhodey shrugged from where he was sitting next to him. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. No one expected them to show up. Not so soon, and not so unexpectedly."

"I think I'm going to conveniently take a vacation that lasts however long they're here," Tony grumbled, using his sleeve to wipe sweat from his face. "And I'll bring Peter with me. He shouldn't have to experience this kind of bullshit, either."

Rhodey chuckled. "Seeing as they're just showing up out of the blue, the government completely uninvolved, then it's perfectly legal for you to _not_ be here. Do I recommend you abandon me? Preferably not, but I wouldn't blame you for ditching."

Tony sighed, placing down the webshooter and turning to look at his friend. "I don't even know how I'd talk to them, Rhodey." The fact that the Rogue Avengers had been spotted entering New York - which had been planned sighting, of course, to alert himself and others to their arrival - was as irritating to him as it made him nauseous. Did he have some kind of trauma? Undoubtedly. Was he using proper coping mechanisms, i.e. therapy? Absolutely not.

"I know," Rhodey said softly. "And I don't want to decide _for_ you what you should do while they're here. If you intend to stay here at all. But you don't have much time to decide."

Tony sighed a second time. It was amazing how one piece of rotten news could completely drain a person of their energy. "Being that I am a respectable human, I will section out an hour of my day to talk with them." He laughed bitterly. "Any longer and I might have some kind of anxiety attack."

Rhodey shook his head. "Trauma is nothing to joke about, Tones. You know that better than anyone."

Yes, Tony did know that. And he knew that _Rhodey_ knew that, too, even if in a different way. Paralysis from a two hundred foot fall, serving for years in the air force and in multiple wars - everyone had their own demons. "But humor _is_ a coping mechanism."

"So is therapy," Rhodey reminded him. "Still, I guess I'd rather you joke than drink."

Tony winced. "Ha. Yeah, agreed." He flexed his wrist, ignoring the odd crack it made. "Well, I think I'll get out of the tower for a bit. Pretend I don't know that they're going to show up. Be fashionably late when I return. Make 'em feel awkward."

Rhodey chuckled. "I take it I'll be left to entertain them while you're unavailable?"

Tony smirked. "Precisely. And you won't complain because you love me, right, honeybear?"

Rhodey shrugged. "Eh. Maybe. Maybe not." He laughed. "I can keep them entertained for up to a day. _Maybe_ a day and a half. But after that you know they're going to want to speak to you, Tones."

"Which I acknowledge and accept. However, they _did_ refuse to listen to me during the Accords fiasco, so forgive me if I don't want to listen to them _now_ ," Tony said simply. "But I will. Just not at this exact moment." He sighed, standing up and shoving his stool under the desk. "I'm going to go talk to Peter. Don't want to leave him here and risk him getting discovered by the Rogue Avengers. Maybe there's somewhere he wants to visit. At least one of us should have fun while we're gone."

Rhodey nodded and stood. "Alright. I'll try to start rearranging the house. Make it less obvious a teenager is staying here."

Tony snickered. "Have fun with that."

Rhodey mock-winced. "Well. I'll try my best."

xXxXxXx

 _guyinthechair: i really am sorry, dude :(( i really would be the person to get sick at the most inconvenient time ever_

 _notspiderman: it's fine, bro. focus on recovery and stuff. we can try to go again together next year? maybe? no matter what your health is priority #1_

 _guyinthechair: tbh you should still try to go without me, dude. you have the tickets so maybe try to get Mr. Stark to go with you or something? i don't want them to go to waste_

 _notspiderman: lmao ned. mr. stark is way too busy for that._

 _guyinthechair: you could at least ask him bro it wouldn't hurt_

 _notspiderman: well… i guess. maybe later. get well soon!_

 _guyinthechair: working on it lol_

Peter turned his phone off, unable to stop disappointment from rising in his chest. He wasn't mad at Ned by any means - his friend couldn't control whether or not he was sick, after all - but it didn't change the fact he was pretty heartbroken to be missing the convention they'd prepared so long for.

He and Ned had managed to acquire tickets to the D23 Expo, mostly from saving up on their own for nearly five years but also with some assistance from May and Ned's parents. He'd been minutes way from arranging transportation for the two of them from Mr. Leeds when Ned texted him that he was sick. Not even the kind of sick where he might be okay by a day or two later; poor Ned was going to be out of commission with a stomach virus for a week or more.

Peter glanced at the D23 tickets resting on his desk as he debated on whether or not to go talk to Mr. Stark. If he approached the conversation strategically, it would be easy enough to get _permission_ ; he'd just have to be cautious about avoiding the fact that he'd be going _alone_.

The other option was to ask Mr. Stark to go with him, but that seemed… Well, impossible. Almost laughable. Not to mention hella embarrassing. There was no way the world-renowned Tony Stark would want to attend a D23 Expo, much less with his _intern._

Then again, he wouldn't know until he asked…

No. Peter was only fooling himself.

Unless…

"Ugh," he groaned, running his hands through his hair. He'd never been good at making decisions, especially when it involved some manner of authority. Peter did, however, have a foolproof method for clearing his head: going out as Spider-Man. Right now, that felt like exactly what he needed.

He dug around through a pile of clothes on the floor, mildly chastising himself for not being more organized. He owed that much to Mr. Stark, at least. At the very bottom of the pile was his suit, and fortunately it did _not_ reek of sweat.

Huh. Peter wasn't even sure if he _could_ wash his suit. Maybe it was dry clean only. He'd have to ask Mr. Stark about that.

Peter quickly changed into the suit, pressing the spider on the chest to fit it to him while simultaneously activating Karen.

"Good afternoon, Peter," his AI said. "You seem to be attempting to leave outside of permissible hours. Has Mr. Stark approved this trip?"

Peter groaned. He'd forgotten about those stupid time restrictions. Of all the things Mr. Stark had remembered to include. "Uh… Sure. He probably wouldn't mind."

Karen hummed in disapproval. "Peter, you know better than to sneak out without permission. It is for your own safety."

" _Or_ Mr. Stark is just babying me," he grumbled. "I just want to go out for a little while, Karen. I have an important decision to make and swinging around Queens is the best way to clear my head."

"What decision do you have to make, Peter?" Karen asked curiously. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Peter was absolutely itching to get outside, but he sighed, deciding to humor his AI for a moment. "Ned and I saved up enough money to get tickets to a D23 Expo that's literally tomorrow, but Ned is sick so I can't go anymore. Unless Mr. Stark lets me go by myself, or he decides to go _with_ me. Which of course he wouldn't."

"Have you asked him already?"

"I mean, no…" Peter rolled his eyes. "But he's _Mr. Stark_. He's way too busy to go to a convention with me. He probably wouldn't even want to go. _Plus_ , it would be kind of embarrassing to go with Mr. Stark. Because he's a billionaire and Iron Man and all that. And I'm Peter Parker, Star Wars fan extraordinaire. So. You know."

He'd never been particularly good with words.

"I am not sure I entirely understand," Karen replied. "But I see no harm in talking to him, Peter. Certainly it is a better option than sneaking out as Spider-Man."

"You're such a goody two shoes, Karen." Peter sighed. "How about this: I talk to him when I get back. That way we're both happy."

Karen didn't reply, so Peter decided to take that as a 'yes.'

Of course, Parker luck had to strike again.

"And just where do you think you're going, Spider-Kid? Not to mention with only one functioning webshooter."

Peter froze, one leg over the edge of the balcony. "Uh… Outside?" He turned around to see a skeptical Tony Stark. "Just wanna, er, get some fresh air."

Tony snorted. "Right. That's believable." He snapped his fingers, pointing at the bed. "Get back in here and sit down, Mr. Parker. We need to talk."

That didn't sound good.

Peter begrudgingly returned inside his room, closing the doors to the balcony behind him before pulling off his mask. He rolled his eyes at Mr. Stark's pointed look, sighing before he sat down on the bed. He felt like he was three years old.

"I have good news and bad news, kid," Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want to hear first?"

"Bad news," Peter replied instantaneously. "Because at least I have something to look forward to afterwards." That was something he and May had done for years - bad news first, good news last. It was ingrained into him now.

"Well, for one, you're not allowed to go out as Spider-Man for a while," Tony said. Peter opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a glare. "Allow me to finish, kid." He pulled out the chair from Peter's desk, sitting down across from him. "The Rogue Avengers were recently spotted entering New York. They'll be coming here. I don't want you - Peter Parker _or_ Spider-Man - to get caught up in their bullcrap. But you don't have to be upset about this because we're going to be leaving _anyway_."

Peter frowned, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information. "We - what? Where are we going?"

Tony smirked at him. "That would be the good news, Mr. Parker. You get to decide where we're going."

Peter's eyes widened, and he couldn't stop his gaze from shifting to the D23 tickets resting on his desk. Would it be too much to ask…? "I mean, I kind of have an idea. Where I want to go. And stuff." The voice in the back of his head was screaming that he'd regret this.

"Completely up to you, kid," Tony said. "I'm open to anything."

"Well…" Peter scooted over on his bed in order to reach his desk, grabbing the D23 tickets. "Ned and I have been saving up for _years_ to go to a D23 Expo, and we _were_ gonna go to the one tomorrow, but Ned texted me a while ago and he's actually _sick_ , so I just wasn't going to mention it even though he told me I should go anyway, but if you'd be willing to go with me that'd be super cool…" He trailed off, aware he was rambling. "Yeah. That."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been containing that monologue, kid?"

Peter flushed, laughing nervously. "A little while."

Tony chuckled, standing and ruffling Peter's hair. "Sounds fun, kid. I've never been to a D23 Expo, either, so it'll be a first for both of us. Rhodey will hold down the fort while we're gone." He smirked. "Let me guess - you only care about the Star Wars stuff, don't you?"

Peter laughed. "Well, not _only_ , but definitely _mostly._ "

Tony shook his head, amused. "Alright. Well, change out of your suit and pack your bags. We'll leave as soon as possible."

Peter's eyes widened. "Really?!" He'd dreamed about getting there early and having extra time to look around, but he'd never though it was possible.

"Yes, really. Whenever you're ready I want you to meet me down in the lab. I have a surprise for you. Or at least a surprise-in-progress."

Peter had no idea what his mentor was referring to, but at this point he didn't care. "Okay! Thank you, Mr. Stark!" Unable to contain his excitement, he pulled the man into a bone-crushing hug. "You're the best!"

Tony gave him an awkward pat on the back, but his smile was genuine. "Now _that_ I knew already."

Peter practically shoved the man out of his bedroom before quickly changing into regular clothes, somehow managing to text Ned at the same time.

 _notspiderman: dude mr. stark actually agreed to take me to D23? idk why but im past the point of questioning_

 _guyinthechair: told ya he couldn't say no to you_

 _notspiderman: lmao tbh i think he would have taken any excuse to get out the house. but yk. no complaints from me_

 _guyinthechair: make sure you take hella pictures tho. i can't be there physically but i want to be there in spirit_

 _notspiderman: lmfao i gotchu dude_

 _guyinthechair: absolute legend_

Peter shoved his phone into his pocket. The next step was to pack a bag or two. Unfortunately, his room was still an absolute mess. That made packing… Difficult, needless to say.

He sighed. He'd better get started.

xXxXxXx

Tony hissed in pain as sparks flew from misaligned wires and fell on his hand. "Shit." He was now starting to remember why he'd given up on designing functional lightsabers. They were both improbable and impractical. He'd started to create them months ago with the intention to be a gift for Peter's 16th birthday, but after a while he'd gotten so annoyed with the explosions that had _never_ seemed to stop - well, he'd given up.

"Yo, are you going to tidy up in here?" Rhodey asked as he entered the lab. "I can get the rest of the tower, but I don't want to mess up whatever order you supposedly have established down here. However, we don't want Steve or any of them noticing Peter's worktable or any of his equipment lying around."

Tony shrugged, still focusing on adjusting those irritating wires that were yet to stop sparking. "If I have time, sure. Otherwise I wouldn't worry about it. This room is probably almost as secure as the Wakandan palace."

Rhodey snorted. "Someone's arrogant."

"Not arrogant. I just know what I'm doing. Nick Fury couldn't get in here even if he wanted to." He cursed again as sparks flew onto his hands.

Rhodey seemed skeptical. "Right. Whatever you say, Tones." He frowned. "What are you even trying to do?"

"Fine tune a functional lightsaber that I started on months ago for Peter," Tony replied, finally giving up on the one he held and picking up another. There were six strewn across his table. "Each is a slightly different design. Unfortunately, they all don't work exactly how they're supposed to for one reason or another."

"And why, exactly, do you need lightsabers?" Rhodey asked, the smirk on his face filled with amusement as he watched his friend struggle.

"I'm taking him to D23," Tony explained, pausing briefly to snap something into place. "Apparently Peter has tickets and planned to go with his friend Ted, but then Ted got sick. Instead of wasting what is probably thousands of dollars saved up by the both of them, I'm going to take Peter." He groaned in frustration. "I'm so close to getting this right. What the hell isn't working?!"

"Can't help you there," Rhodey said, laughing. "But I hope you have fun. Meanwhile, I'll be suffering as I try to entertain Cap and crew."

Tony snorted at the nickname. "I'll send you pictures, don't worry. 'Wish you were here' and that kind of stuff."

"How kind of you."

Tony paused, examining the lightsaber. He was missing _something_. He just didn't know _what._ He frowned, transferring the handle from one hand to another, eyes widening as he felt that something inside was unbalanced. "Rookie mistake," he muttered, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. Less than five minutes later he'd successfully deconstructed the lightsaber, fixed the calibration issue, and put it all back together. "Yes!" he said triumphantly, switching the button on the side and unleashing a bright green beam around three feet long.

Rhodey whistled, impressed. "Peter's going to love that."

"Peter's going to love what?"

Tony spun on his heel, smirking and brandishing the lightsaber as Peter entered the lab. "His own fully-functional lightsaber that is nearly _identical_ to those of the Star Wars franchise, of course."

Peter's jaw dropped so far Tony was concerned it would hit the floor. "R-Really?!" he finally stammered, eyes wide in awe. "That's - That's for me?!"

Tony almost laughed at the kid's shock. "Yep. It was supposed to be a birthday gift, but I think this is a more fitting time for you to have it." He flicked the button, the laser retracting back into the handle, then tossed it to Peter. "Being that it is a real laser, it's probably a safety hazard, so be careful. Don't swing it at anyone unless you want to go to jail."

Peter didn't respond, and Tony had a feeling his words had gone in one ear and out the other. "This is amazing," the teen murmured, examining the handle. "How did you do this, Mr. Stark?"

Tony felt a soft smile dance on his lips. Peter's enthusiasm had a way of erasing all negativity, including that of the prospect of reuniting with the Rogue Avengers. "Ask me again some other day and I'll show you how to make one," he said, ruffling the kid's hair.

Peter beamed at him. "Thank you, Mr. Stark!"

"You can't trust Tony, Peter," Rhodey snickered. "He'd been in a rut for months trying to figure out how to get that lightsaber to work, and was about to give up when he realized less than five minutes ago it was a calibration issue."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I apologize for my imperfection." He clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Anyways. You ready to leave, kid?"

Peter nodded, tucking the lightsaber into the bookbag on his back. "Yep! I have the tickets," he said, patting his front pocket.

"Perfect," Tony replied. "Alright. Well, good luck and have fun dealing with Cap and crew, Rhodey, because Peter and I are about to have the time of our lives."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. I expect compensation."

"Eh, maybe!" Tony called from halfway up the stairs. "Depends on how I feel when we get back!" Whatever Rhodey said next he couldn't hear, fully out of earshot of the lab.

"This is going to be _so_ much fun," Peter said eagerly.

Tony felt excitement bubble in his own chest as the worry of dealing with Steve Rogers dissipated. "You're damn right, kid."

xXxXxXx

 _notspiderman: dude mr. stark made me a real lightsaber? i am forever in his debt_

 _guyinthechair: holy SHIT peter if you don't send me a picture we can't be friends anymore_

 _notspiderman: i will i will as soon we stop somewhere i don't want to accidentally slice mr. stark's car in half_

 _guyinthechair: i will hold you to this promise dude you have the coolest life_

"Here's the plan, kid," Tony said as he stopped at a red light. "The Expo doesn't start until tomorrow around 9, so we'll stop at a hotel overnight and leave early the next morning. I went ahead and called some of the directors, and they've agreed to reserve some VIP passes for us."

Peter's jaw dropped. "M-Mr. Stark!" The thought of the ridiculous amount of money it would take to buy VIP passes, not to mention so last minute, somewhat made him want to die. "Mr. Stark, you didn't have to do that."

Tony shrugged, pressing the gas as the light changed to green. "No, I didn't. But I wanted to. So I did. Simple logic, really."

More like _Tony Stark_ logic. Peter should have expected that.

The car grew quiet, with the exception of the faint thrumming of the engine and the sound of other cars passing them by every so often. As excited as Peter was for the Expo, he couldn't be rid of the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that Mr. Stark didn't _actually_ want to go and was in desperate need of some excuse - any excuse - to not have to confront Captain America.

Peter wasn't entirely sure _why_ Mr. Stark didn't want to talk to Mr. Rogers. Sure, he was aware of the issue with the Accords and he knew the Rogue Avengers had been given that title because they'd broken the law and were on the run, but he didn't know much else. Pepper's explanation had been helpful in understanding the logistics but he didn't have a clue about the personal animosity between Mr. Stark and Captain America.

He was tempted to ask, but… His anxiety was overriding his curiosity. Plus, it felt kind of invasive. He knew the bruises Mr. Stark's face had been decorated with had come from somewhere.

Well, someone.

"So…" Tony began. "Do you know what you want to see at the Expo?"

Now _that_ was a question Peter could answer. "Ned and I actually made an itinerary!" he said excitedly, rummaging through his bookbag until he found the list, albeit now very crumpled. "Since we only bought tickets for one day, we wanted to fit in as much as possible." He smoothed the paper out on his knee. "Seeing the Star Wars section was our priority, duh."

Tony snickered. "Of course. I should have known."

"We actually have an hour of lowkey just wandering after that," Peter continued. "We also planned to check out the Pixar section, especially the Incredibles, and also some of the classic Disney." He paused as he saw the next section on the itinerary; _Superheroes_. Disney had purchased a lot of the rights for commercializing the Avengers - Disney bought everything eventually, after all - which included the likes of, tragically, Iron Man.

That had so much potential to be embarrassing.

"And, uh, that's the end of the schedule," Peter stammered, shoving it back into his bag. "A very full day. Lots to go through."

Tony raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but apparently he chose not to comment on it, much to Peter's relief. "You know, if you wanted, I could buy tickets for all three days of the Expo instead of just the one."

Peter had to admit; he was tempted. He was so, _so_ tempted. But he knew he couldn't allow Mr. Stark to do that. It didn't feel right. "No, it's okay, Mr. Stark. I only want to go to as much as Ned and I planned originally. But I appreciate the offer." He frowned as a thought occurred. "Don't you have to be back at the tower soon, anyways? To talk to Mr. Captain America and the rest of them?"

Tony's grip tightened on the steering wheel, and his next turn was sharper than necessary. "Right. Can't forget about that, can I?"

Peter sensed he'd struck a nerve. "Mr. Stark…" he said tentatively. "What happened between you and Mr. Rogers? Like, for real? I mean, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but…" He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

Peter really hadn't expected Mr. Stark to answer. The man wasn't known for being open about his emotions.

"I guess it's pretty obvious that Steve and I's fight ran deeper than a disagreement over the Accords, huh?" Tony muttered. He sighed. "It's a lot, kid. A lot you wouldn't understand, and a lot I don't like talking about."

Peter knew he should have kept his big mouth shut. He was such a dumbass. "That's fine, Mr. Stark! I really shouldn't have asked, because I know it's a really personal topic and I don't want to intrude or make you feel like you _have_ to tell me or anything like that, and I know -"

"Hey, hey," Tony interrupted softly, though his eyes were still locked on the road. "It's okay, kid. I know you just want to help. That, and you're an absolute busybody."

Peter frowned in mock offense. "You don't have to be so rude, Mr. Stark."

Tony chuckled. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Have you ever had someone lie to you, kid?"

Peter blinked in surprise. "I mean, probably, but -"

"No, a certain kind of lie." Tony flexed his hands on the steering wheel. "Someone you trust lies to your face even as they know that _you_ know the truth. And they're lying about something they _should_ have let you know years ago because _they_ knew about the truth the entire time. They allowed you to believe a lie for so long and then lied to you _again_. Lied to you about something that couldn't be undone in a second. Something that might not be able to be undone ever." He glanced at Peter, who noticed something in his mentor's eyes: pain.

It was the kind of hurt he'd only seen once before in his life.

The emptiness in May's eyes at Uncle Ben's funeral.

He'd never wanted to see that look again.

"It's that kind of lie, kid," Tony continued. "And I'm praying that no one _ever_ lies to you like that. Because you might not be able to forgive them."

Peter nodded, slowly. Maybe he didn't know exactly what Mr. Stark was talking about, but the enormity of the man's fight with Captain America was starting to sink in. "Did… Did Mr. Rogers lie to you like that, then?"

Tony hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah." He managed a laugh. "Let me tell you, kid, it was _not_ fun. One star, do not recommend, crappy experience."

Peter nodded again. "I'll do my best to avoid it."

Silence fell, and Peter had no idea how to break it. So, he didn't. At least not right away. But Peter could only withstand a tense quiet for a very short period of time. "Um, Mr. Stark?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I play some music?"

Tony shrugged. "Sure."

"In honor of the D23 Expo, we are only going to listen to Disney-affiliated music." Peter whipped out his phone, scrolling until he found his Disney playlist, beaming as he selected one of the most iconic Pixar songs. He laughed when Tony snorted as "You've Got a Friend in Me" started playing.

Tony reached over, ruffling Peter's hair. "Thanks, kid."

Peter smiled softly at him. "You're welcome, Mr. Stark."

xXxXxXx

"Do you really think Tony is still going to be up?" Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest as his wings folded into the mechanical case on his back.

Natasha snorted. "Of course he is. Tony doesn't sleep. Not to mention Pepper is at a conference in Chicago right now, so there's no one here to _remind_ him to sleep." Despite her flat tone, she felt her heart pang at the mention of Tony not sleeping. She of all the so-called 'rogue' Avengers still sympathized with him the most over what had happened with the Accords. She was also well aware there was something between him and Steve unknown to anyone else.

"Well, how the hell are we supposed to get in?" Sam demanded. "I understand we don't want to get caught by law enforcement and whatever, but showing up in the dead of night without warning still seems rude."

"Perhaps not rude enough for Stark," Wanda muttered, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "He probably has General Ross on speed dial, _waiting_ for us to step out of line."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but Steve beat her to it.

"Tony wouldn't do that," he said. "No matter how many skeletons any of us have in our closet."

"Enough lecturing," Sam groaned, rolling his eyes. "Get us inside so we can get the conversation over with already."

"Can it, Wilson," Natasha snapped. Her temper was often short when she was sleep-deprived, which she most definitely was. "You're not even someone who's going to _do_ any talking."

"Well, I'm so _sorry_ , Ms. Romanoff, that I don't want to stick around here any longer than _necessary_."

"God, I've had enough of your childish arguing!" Wanda snapped. "I'll get us inside." At that, the girl marched up to the door and clicked the buzzer. "Since Stark more than likely knows we are coming, I am quite sure he will let us in."

Steve chuckled. "I have a feeling you're right about that."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I was told to stop acting childish by an actual child."

"I'm twenty three years old!" Wanda growled. "I am not a child."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Maybe you aren't a child age-wise, but you're certainly acting like one." She glared at the girl. "Learn to watch your attitude and maybe you'd earn some respect."

Steve stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Guys. This isn't the time to argue."

"Right," Sam snorted. "We're about to enter into a _diplomatic_ conversation, after all."

Steve glared at Sam, and Natasha bit back a laugh. She knew that look all too well - the _not now, dumbass_ look. "As I was saying. We can't afford to argue. The world is against us. If we turn against each other, then there's no hope. For any of us."

"Oh dear," a voice said dryly. "Have I interrupted a lecture?"

Natasha turned around to see a hologram of Rhodey watching them, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. "Hi, Rhodey."

Rhodey nodded curtly at her. "Romanoff. I trust you're doing well."

She shrugged. "Well as can be, considering I've been on the run for a year."

Rhodey chuckled. "I wonder whose fault that might be."

Wanda grumbled something about Tony Stark being at fault under her breath, which Natasha chose to ignore.

"Is Tony available right now?" Steve asked, evidently trying to return the conversation to the reason they were there. "I understand that it's late, but he's never been a guy to have a reliable sleeping schedule."

Rhodey shrugged. "Actually, as of late, he has. But no, he's not available right now. He'll be back tomorrow, I think. Or maybe the day after tomorrow. However, he gave me permission to allow you to stay here for the time being." He paused. "Well, he _implied_ it. So welcome home, I guess." There was a click as the doors slid open in front of them. "FRIDAY will light up a path on the floor leading you to your rooms. Sleep well."

"Wait," Natasha said, holding up her hand to stop him from turning off the hologram. "Tony isn't here? Where is he?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Did you really expect him to drop everything just to be here when you guys arrived? Seriously. You're all _technically_ on the run from the law, not to mention you've done some…" He glanced at Steve. "Well, some of you have done what could be called 'unforgivable' to him."

"And does that somehow justify what he's done to us?" Wanda snapped.

"It depends," Rhodey said, shrugging. " _I_ would say he hasn't done anything to you, but I'll admit that I'm biased." He held his hands up in surrender. "If you're so desperate to hear about where Tony is and what he's been up to, fine. I'll tell you as much as I can. _Tomorrow_. For now, get your asses inside and go to bed."

The hologram disappeared with a flash of blue.

"Well," Natasha said after a long pause. "I guess we should go inside."

xXxXxXx

"Why the hell do we have to wait in line," Tony grumbled, prompting Peter to roll his eyes. "I'm Tony Stark. Billionaire. Iron Man. My name should be first on the list for VIP passes."

Peter laughed. "To be fair, Mr. Stark, you did call them _yesterday_ , the day before the Expo, about reserving VIP passes. You don't get special treatment for being last minute."

Tony sighed in mock exasperation. "God, Pete. You know you don't have to be right all the time."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure I do." Peter felt his hand instinctively creep towards his hip, just to make sure his lightsaber was still secured there. This was the most excited he'd ever felt in his life. Heck, the most excited he was ever going to _be_.

"Wait, hold the phone for a second," Tony said, biting back a laugh. "Peter, _what_ is on your shirt?"

Peter felt the blood rush to his face, his arms instinctively creeping up and wrapping around him to cover his chest. "Uh… Nothing?"

Tony was snickering now. "Pete. C'mon. Let me see your shirt."

Peter groaned. He should have expected this. He grudgingly moved his arms down, revealing a shirt that read "Offended you I have. A shit I do not give." with a picture of Yoda above it.

Tony's snickering shifted to full on laughter. "Peter. Oh my God. That is the lamest t-shirt you could _possibly_ own."

Peter pouted, his face still burning. "No it's not! It's funny!" He and Ned had thought the shirt was hilarious when they'd seen it on Amazon. They'd each bought one in a different color.

"It's only funny because of how bad it is, Pete." Tony took his glasses off, wiping tears from his eyes. "God. Remind me to never come to you for fashion advice."

Peter groaned. "I hate you _so_ much, Mr. Stark."

After what felt like a year of more teasing but was probably closer to an hour, they made it to the front of the line and were given their VIP passes. It took the people handing them out a good five minutes to get used to the fact that yes, the real Tony Stark was attending the D23 Expo, and yes, he would take _one_ picture with them so long as they promised not to announce his presence. They hadn't seemed to care about Peter, which he hadn't minded whatsoever.

At long last the two were finally wandering about the Expo, Peter gawking at the sheer size of the building.

"Close your mouth or you'll catch flies, kid," Tony said, adjusting his glasses on his face. "So, you wanted to go the Star Wars section first. Fine with me. However, I have no idea where it is. I hope you have a map."

Peter nodded, quickly fishing around in his bookbag, pulling out the map of the building with his itinerary stapled to the back. "It's not too far from here," he said after figuring out where they were. "It's past the Animation exhibit." While Peter was certainly interested in animation, the pull of seeing everything related to Star Wars was too strong to resist.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Tony said, gesturing vaguely in front of them. "Let's go."

Peter practically bounced the entire way there, energy flooding his body all the way down to the tips of his toes. They turned a corner, and… "Oh my God."

Tony laughed at his awe. "You really have been waiting for this for a while, huh?"

Peter's voice was caught in his throat. The designs hanging from the ceiling, the life size cardboard cutouts, the detailed cosplays, the B-list actors walking around - "Oh my _God_ , Mr. Stark!" Unable to contain his excitement, he nearly dropped his phone while attempting to fish it out of his bag. "Mr. Stark, can you take a picture of me so I can send it to Ned, please?"

Tony rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Sure, kid. Find wherever you want to pose."

Peter quickly decided to stand next to a cutout of Rey, who had become one of his favorite characters as soon as he'd seen _The Force Awakens_. There was something oddly familiar in her story about the death of parents then finding a father figure elsewhere. He made sure to brandish his epic lightsaber for the photo.

"Smile," Tony said dryly and rolling his eyes before snapping several pictures. "I'm sure one of these is Instagram-worthy."

Peter beamed at him. He knew the man was being sarcastic, but he was too excited to care. "Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!"

 _notspiderman: finally here! wish you were here too tho dude :((_

 _1 image attached_

 _guyinthechair: everything looks cool as hell? you'd better have so much fun peter and send me so many pictures. i want to feel like i'm actually there_

 _notspiderman: hell yes_

Peter's attention was drawn elsewhere by a large sign hanging above a table with a short line in front of it. "Costume contest?" He and Ned had discussed in length multiple times about cosplaying, but had ultimately decided against it primarily because of expense issues. Which were mostly on Peter's end. But now…

"Why don't you enter, kid?" Tony suggested. "You have that lightsaber I made you. You could be a… Modern Luke Skywalker or something."

Peter was tempted. "I mean, I _could_ …" But it wasn't like he had a real costume. He feared the reactions of other convention-goers.

Tony shrugged. "No harm in trying." The older man grabbed his shoulders, steering him towards the table. "The line's not terribly long, so we shouldn't miss anything you have listed on that itinerary of yours."

Peter ended up in line behind a girl with dark hair, the tips dyed some variant of red. Or maybe orange. He couldn't tell.

 _notspiderman: gonna enter a costume contest even tho i have no costume lmfao_

 _guyinthechair: honorable mention. i'm calling it now. just wait._

 _notspiderman: you're on. i bet i don't place at all_

 _guyinthechair: HA as if dude_

Peter heard Tony sigh, turning around to see the man staring at his phone. He frowned, wondering what had the man upset. "What's wrong, Mr. Stark?"

Tony immediately turned his phone off, tucking it away and giving Peter a tight smile. "Nothing, kid. Everything's great."

Peter had a feeling he knew who was texting Mr. Stark, or at least what their conversation was about, but he decided not to say anything. He could help his mentor have a good time without turning it into a therapy session.

"Excuse me?"

Peter jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder, turning to see the girl with the colorful hair who he now recognized to be in an amazing Mara Jade costume. "Wow, that's such a cool cosplay!" he breathed, eyes wide in awe. "You don't see Mara Jade very often."

The girl beamed at him. "Thank you!" she said, a French accent noticeable in her voice. "Most people haven't recognized her. It's nice to meet someone who finally does." She laughed, shaking her head. "Where are my manners? My name is Alya."

Peter accepted her hand, shaking it. "I'm Peter. Are you from France?"

Alya laughed. "Yes. Paris, specifically. I've been saving up for years to attend an Expo." She shook her head. "Ah. I swear I had a genuine question to ask you." She snapped her fingers. "Right! I remember now." She pointed at Peter's hip. "That lightsaber you have looks _amazing_. Like, the detail is crazy! Did you buy it somewhere? Or make it yourself?"

This seemed like the perfect opportunity to draw Mr. Stark's attention away from the issue of the Rogue Avengers. "It was actually a gift," Peter explained, unhooking it from his belt. "Mr. Stark made it for me."

Tony rolled his eyes but gave the girl a small wave. "It can be called either a late birthday present from last year or an early birthday present for this year."

"Step back," Peter instructed, and Alya did as told. He clicked the button on the side, the beam whooshing out and crackling with electricity.

"Merde," the girl murmured, staring at the lightsaber in awe. "Is that… Is that a _real_ laser?!"

"Yep," Peter said proudly. "And it's all thanks to Mr. Stark." So maybe he was drawing a _little_ unwanted attention to his mentor. But the smile on the man's face made it all worth it.

xXxXxXx

Natasha sipped her coffee, ignoring how it scalded her throat. It was one of those days. The kitchen was quiet, with the exception of silverware clinking against plates and the chewing of food. It was… Weird, needless to say, to be back in the tower, especially without Tony there.

"Hope the food is alright," Rhodey said as he walked into the kitchen. "I ordered it from McDonald's, which has yet to disappoint me regarding breakfast quality."

There was a clang as Wanda angrily stabbed the eggs on her plate. "Funny how Stark is a billionaire but will only pay for fast food for us," she grumbled.

Rhodey shrugged, sitting down across from the four. "High quality food is reserved for close friends and family. But also _I_ was the one who ordered it, not Tony. McDonald's isn't far from here. Ease of access."

Steve cleared his throat. "So… Do you mind telling us where Tony is right now?"

Natasha nodded. She wouldn't lie - she'd been intrigued the entire night.

"He's away," Rhodey replied. "With a… Friend. An acquaintance."

Wanda snorted. "Stark has friends?"

"Who, specifically?" Natasha asked, ignoring the younger girl. "We all know Tony has very few people he trusts. You're here, and Pepper and Happy are away at some conference, so…" She let the unspoken question hang in the air.

Rhodey shrugged. "You probably don't know this person." Natasha almost laughed at his insistence to keep Tony's new 'friend' a secret. "Tony's only known them for…" He frowned. "Maybe close to a year? I'm not sure."

"Probably some lover he doesn't want Pepper to know about," Wanda grumbled. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case."

Rhodey sighed, evidently no longer bothered by Wanda's attitude. "They should be back late today or tomorrow. Don't worry about business that doesn't concern you. Until then, feel free to roam about the bottom three floors of the tower or stay holed up in your rooms the entire time. Doesn't matter to me."

"Yo, what the hell is this?" Everyone's attention was drawn to Sam, who was holding a sheet of paper with what looked like… Math problems on it. "And why was it next to the coffee pot?"

"Ha," Natasha muttered. "Which coffee pot?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "So funny, Nat."

Wanda's eyes began to glow red as she used her magic to draw the paper towards her - Sam not included. She frowned as she examined it. "Is this calculus? I remember doing this in my first year of university before… Before Ultron, I suppose."

"Why does Tony have the homework of some college student just chilling out in his tower?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know," Rhodey replied, rolling his eyes. Natasha could see immediately that his nonchalance was fake. "Let me see it real quick."

Wanda seemed skeptical but handed the paper to him.

Rhodey examined it briefly before balling it up and shoving it into his pocket, shrugging. "I don't know. Sometimes things show up in this tower that have no reason to be here. I'm sure this is one of them." He stood. "I'm afraid I'll be going now. I have a physical therapy appointment that I can't miss."

Natasha noticed Sam flinch at Rhodey's words, his gaze painful as he glanced down at the braces on the colonel's legs.

"Thanks for breakfast, Rhodey," Steve said, nodding at him.

Rhodey managed a smile, albeit a strained one. "You're welcome, Captain." He offered them a wave before leaving, pulling out his phone as he did so.

"Well, there's clearly something he's not telling us about Tony's new friend," Natasha said after a long pause.

"And that calculus worksheet has something to do with it," Wanda muttered.

"My money's on a son from some lady he had a one-night stand with twenty years ago," Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The kid's probably in college now but spends his summers with Tony."

"It seems like you've been thinking about this for a while," Steve remarked, amused. "But honestly… It doesn't seem that far off."

Natasha sighed, downing the last of her coffee. "I guess we'll find out when he gets back."

xXxXxXx

 _rhodey: You are so lucky your kid doesn't remember to write his name on his homework, Tones._

 _tstark: What are you talking about?_

 _rhodey: Cap and crew showed up last night, and while they were all eating breakfast this morning, Sam found Peter's calculus homework next to the coffee pot. Thankfully his name wasn't on it so they still don't know anything about Peter, but I would consider that an unnecessarily close call._

 _tstark: Weren't you supposed to clean the house for me, dearest?_

 _rhodey: I cleaned some of the tower. Not all hundred-something or whatever floors. Also you gave me like a five hour notice to do it. What did you really expect?_

 _tstark: 3 3 love you honey._

 _tstark: I wouldn't worry about it. As long as neither of us confirm any suspicions, they can theorize as much as they like. Sounds entertaining._

 _rhodey: Alright. Hope you're having fun. Tell Peter I said hi._

 _tstark: Of course, darling._

Tony turned his phone off, shoving it into his pocket. He watched as Peter excitedly talked to some actress that Tony didn't recognize but was probably from the Star Wars films, the kid pausing to take a selfie with her.

The business with the Rogue Avengers was shit. He'd admit it. He'd also admit that he was definitely running away from his problems by taking Peter to the D23 Expo. At the same time… Well, the smile that hadn't left Peter's face made it all seem worth it.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter called. Tony blinked in surprise, realizing the kid was now looking at a clothing display. "Come see all these cool shirts!"

"They're Star Wars, kid," Tony teased. "Really, how cool can they be?"

Peter glared at him, but he lacked any and all intimidation. "I should have just come without you. You're so mean."

Tony snorted, rolling his eyes. "And how would you have gotten here, exactly?"

Peter shrugged. "Webslinging, probably."

"Right. With your one functioning webshooter. Uh huh. I'm sure that would have ended well." Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you really think I wouldn't have noticed if the teenager I'm responsible for had just up and left?"

"Maybe."

Tony laughed at the pout on Peter's face. "Anyways, kid. What shirts did you want me to see?"

Peter's pout shifted to a mischievous smirk in the blink of an eye as he held up a shirt that read: "YO-DA BEST DAD" with a picture of the aforementioned Yoda beneath. "Do you like it? _I_ think it suits you, personally."

Tony couldn't tell whether the kid was serious or not. "Uh… Really, Pete?"

Peter placed a hand over his heart in a wounded fashion. "I picked this out especially for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. This kid was going to be the death of him. "Okay, Pete -"

"Unfortunately, there was no shirt that said 'Yo-da best father figure' or 'mentor,' so this will have to do," Peter continued. "But other than that, I don't think it's half bad." He frowned. "Aww, I wish there was a parallel one for Ms. Potts and May."

Tony sighed, then shook his head, laughing. Might as well roll with the punches. He threw his arm around the kid's shoulders. "Alright, fine. That one isn't so bad. _But_ …" He grabbed two shirts from the rack to his left. "I think these are better." One read: "I am your father" with an image of Darth Vader, while the other had: "Noooooooooooo" and a picture of Luke Skywalker. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh my God." He grabbed the one with Luke. "This is - Mr. Stark, these are perfect!" Tony stiffened as the kid suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm going to buy them now!"

Tony awkwardly returned the hug before what Peter said sank in. "Wait a second!" He pulled away, frowning at the kid. "Spiderling, _I'm_ going to buy these shirts. My treat for you allowing me to run away from my problems." He was fully aware that Peter would try to argue with him, and so seized the moment to grab the shirt from the kid and walk over to the… Uh, semi-register.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter protested, reaching through his bag undoubtedly in search of his wallet. "Come on. Please let me pay."

"Absolutely not." Tony turned his attention to the person at the 'register,' who was apparently still awestruck that the one and only Tony Stark was buying from _them_. It got tiring after the first twenty years or so, he had to admit. "I'd like to purchase these two shirts." He pulled two hundred dollar bills from his back pocket, placing them on the counter. "Keep the change, please and thank you." He grabbed the shirts before tossing them to Peter. "Hold on to them. We can wear them tomorrow."

Peter grumbled something under his breath, but the excitement dancing in his eyes revealed his true sentiment. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony chuckled, ruffling the kid's hair. "You're welcome, kid." He glanced at his watch. "It's almost noon. Does your itinerary still have us in the Star Wars area, or shall we move on?"

Peter examined his paper. "Uh…"

"It's up to you," Tony continued. "I'm just the chaperone."

Peter laughed. "Well, according to this, we should be heading over to Pixar and classic Disney about now. So…" He spun on his heel, trying to find the right direction. "Over there, I think?"

Tony shrugged. "Whatever you say, kid." He grinned at Peter, feeling relaxed for the first time since leaving the tower. "This is all for you."

xXxXxXx

"Rhodey, do we have permission to use the gym?" Natasha asked, cracking her neck and wincing. "I haven't had a genuine workout in ages." The reason why, of course, was obvious.

Rhodey appeared hesitant. "Maybe. I wasn't _explicitly_ told you couldn't, but…"

Natasha held her hands up. "Hey. If you say no, that's fine. I don't want to intrude. I know circumstances are already tense. If you don't think Tony would want us in there, then I'll go back to my room. It's plenty big enough to do some push-ups and shit." She'd been surprised to see that her room had remained unchanged. A year had passed, after all.

Rhodey sighed. "No, I'm sure it's fine. Tell the others they're allowed to use it as well." He stood from where he'd been sitting on the couch, muttering a curse under his breath as his leg braces creaked loudly. "I think I'm going to give Tony a call. Ask him to give me instructions to loosen these." He gestured towards his legs. "They've been stiffer than usual as of late."

The old Natasha may have been tempted to eavesdrop on the call. Figure out where Tony was, who he was with. But now… Enough damage had been done. She had no reason to make things worse. "Thank you," was all she said, heading back to the entrance of the gym, where Steve was waiting for her.

"I take it he said yes?"

She nodded, then frowned. "Shit. I didn't ask for a password."

"Maybe Tony left our IDs in," Steve suggested. "Although… I'll admit it doesn't seem likely."

Natasha shrugged. "Tony's main goal was always to keep the Avengers together. I feel like that hasn't changed." She was aware her ID was more likely to remain in the system than Steve's. She didn't know the specifics - no one did - but she knew _something_ had happened between them. She ignored the skeptical expression on Steve's face and stepped forward, pressing the button next to the door. "Agent Romanoff."

There was a pause that seemed to stretch an eternity.

Then the doors slid open.

She smirked at him. "Told you so."

Steve held up his hands in surrender. "I should have known you'd be right."

Natasha walked into the gym, freezing in her tracks upon going past the threshold. "What the hell…?"

The _entire_ gym had been redone, or at least most of it. Sure, there were the traditional workout machines, but now there was a new section that consisted of…

"Are you supposed to _swing_ from that?" Steve said in confusion, joining Natasha in the gym. "Why would Tony have this in his personal gym? The compound, _maybe_ , but isn't this just for residents of Stark Tower?"

Natasha shook her head, unsure of how to react. "I don't know." A small piece of paper stuck on the wall by the… Swinging section, or whatever it was, caught her eye. "What's this?"

It was a sticky note, with something scribbled nearly illegibly on it. It looked like… A teenager's handwriting, if she was honest.

"'I accidentally broke the fifth bar. Sorry,'" Natasha read, brow furrowed in confusion. She looked up, and sure enough, the bar was broken. "Seems recent. Guess Tony hasn't found it yet." She frowned. "You'd think FRIDAY would have told him."

"I was instructed not to." Both Natasha and Steve jumped as FRIDAY's voice filled the room. "The person who broke it was embarrassed, and they were also worried that Mr. Stark would be angry with them because they'd broken it the third time this week."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Well that's… Interesting." Didn't sound like the average reaction for someone who knew Tony Stark.

"I take it you can't tell us who this person is?" Steve asked.

"I'm afraid not, Captain," FRIDAY said, though she didn't sound in the least bit apologetic.

Steve shrugged as Natasha rolled her eyes. "It was worth a shot."

"Oh, _there_ you two are."

Natasha turned around to see Sam standing at the door. "Yes, we _told_ you we were trying to use the gym," she said, sighing. "Men. They never listen."

Sam glared at her before laughing. "Fair enough. But seriously. Come look at what I found in Tony's room."

"Why have you been in Tony's room, exactly?" Natasha demanded as she and Steve walked over to him. "Do you really want to break the fragile trust that has barely been established?"

"In my defense, it wasn't his _real_ room," Sam said. "I just called it that since every room in Stark Tower technically serves as Tony's room. And I didn't mean to find it. I took a wrong turn trying to remember where the bathroom was."

"What else was in there?" Steve asked.

Sam shrugged. "It was pretty empty, actually. There was a piano in the middle, with a few pictures and cards on top. _Including_ this one." He dramatically brandished an envelope. "Consider this proof that Tony recently came across an illegitimate child who is now staying here at the tower with him."

Natasha took the card from him, raising an eyebrow as she read it aloud. "'Happy Father's Day'?" She opened the card. "'You're the greatest not-dad in the world. From P.P.'" She looked up. "Who the hell is P.P.?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea, but those are some unfortunate initials."

Natasha swatted him with the card. "Don't be rude."

Sam ducked out of the way. "Sorry, sorry. But now do you believe me? This is basically concrete evidence that Tony has a kid."

"Maybe not concrete," Steve said, "but it definitely gives weight to your theory."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "If Tony had a kid somewhere, Fury would know, and by default I would also know. Tony does _not_ have any children."

Sam shrugged, still not convinced. "Whatever you say, Nat. Whatever you say."

She threw the card in his face.

xXxXxXx

 _notspiderman: i am officially loaded with merch, dude._

 _guyinthechair: niiiiiiiiiiiice_

 _notspiderman: this is your stuff btw_

 _6 images attached_

 _notspiderman: and, tragically, you were right. i did get honorable mention in the costume contest :((_

 _guyinthechair: my hotel is trivago, peter. you are literally my favorite person ever._

 _guyinthechair: HA TOLD YOU SO_

 _notspiderman: well, thank mr. stark for everything. he keeps buying stuff and refusing to let me pay; it is literally the most annoying thing in the world_

 _guyinthechair: wow i can't believe tony stark bought me a star wars shirt!_

 _notspiderman: smh, dude. but speaking of star wars…_

 _1 image attached_

 _notspiderman: mr. stark and i have these awesome shirts now?_

 _Guyinthechair:dude. he really is your dad_

 _notspiderman: eh… maybe not that far but father figure for sure. lol i already had this discussion with him_

 _guyinthechair: *dad-figure_

 _notspiderman: WOW okay lmfao_

"Where to next, kid?" Tony asked, drawing Peter's attention from his phone.

"Uh…" Peter shoved his phone away, pulling out his itinerary. "The next section is - ah." The next section had been crossed out, but it was still readable as "Superheroes." Yeah, he did _not_ want to go there with Mr. Stark. He'd never live it down. "Er, the next section is just free time. Wandering. And stuff."

Tony lowered his glasses, staring at him skeptically. Peter felt his pulse quicken. "You're a terrible liar, kid."

Peter laughed nervously, trying to discreetly tuck away his itinerary. Unfortunately, he was everything but discreet, and he groaned as the older man promptly took the paper from him. "You had better not laugh, Mr. Stark."

Tony smirked. "Oh, 'superheroes,' is it?" He snickered. "I can't imagine why you didn't want me to see _this_."

"Because I knew you'd react like _that_ ," Peter groaned. He rolled his eyes. "You know what, fine. Let's go." He started making his way to the superhero section. "I'm buying myself like fifteen shirts with Thor on them."

Tony mock-gasped. "Pete. You're killing me."

"Good. You deserve it." Peter marched up to the first stand he saw, immediately grabbing a shirt with the Norse god's face on it. "There is nothing you can do to prevent this, Mr. Stark."

Tony grimaced. "God, kid. That's tacky as hell."

Peter shrugged, handing it to the person running the stand. "Don't care. I will buy every superhero shirt _except_ Iron Man. You can't stop me, Mr. Stark." The exasperation on his mentor's face was _hilarious_ and it was nearly impossible for Peter not to laugh. He turned around, handing the person a twenty dollar bill before taking his shirt and shoving it into his bag.

Tony finally sighed, rolling his eyes. "When we get back to the tower, I'm finding a new intern."

Peter's jaw dropped. "Mr. Stark!" That was not an acceptable thing to joke about. His income came primarily from his internship. He'd never tell that to Mr. Stark, of course, especially about how last-minute payments for bills often came from Peter's reserve of cash. He didn't mind, of course. Anything to keep May from taking on a fourth job.

Tony chuckled. "I'm kidding, Pete." He stepped forward, ruffling Peter's hair. "Buy whatever you want. Or rather, let _me_ buy it for you."

That set the mood for the rest of the day, really. And Peter didn't mind one bit. It wasn't that Mr. Stark was _never_ happy - the happiest he'd seen the man was when he was eagerly planning out details of his wedding with Ms. Potts - but more often than not his mentor always seemed to have something else on his mind. In this case, it was the Rogue Avengers.

Peter was more than willing to serve as a distraction. Taking stupid selfies with random cardboard cutouts, making fun of every single Iron Man shirt he came across, dragging Mr. Stark _into_ the aforementioned selfies - anything to keep the man smiling.

 _MJ: saw your latest instagram post. wonderful photo of you and stark hanging out with a cardboard cutout literally of iron man himself._

 _MJ: stark seems to be having more fun than you._

 _MJ: i bet that was your plan_

 _Peter: ha! maybe so_

 _MJ: well, it looks like you're succeeding_

 _Peter: good :)_

xXxXxXx

"What the hell is on the ceiling?!"

Natasha looked up from the book she was reading upon hearing Sam's squawk, frowning as she realized that -

"Are those shoeprints?" Wanda asked. "Why the hell does Stark have shoeprints on his ceiling? You'd think he would have enough money to pay for a decent cleaning staff."

"Wanda…" Steve sighed. "Never mind."

"You guys are missing the point!" Sam protested. "Literal shoeprints. On Stark's ceiling. How did they get there in the first place?!"

All eyes turned the Rhodey, who was scrolling on his phone seemingly unbothered. "Why would I know? I just live here."

Natasha snorted at his comment. "Do you even do _that_ most of the time?"

Rhodey laughed. "Probably not."

"Those shoeprints aren't even that large," Wanda pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. "Clearly it wasn't Stark himself walking on the ceiling, as amusing at that image is." She paused, eyes narrowing near a corner of the room. "Wait…" Her hands glowed with her characteristic red energy as she lifted a chair, pulling out something from underneath.

Natasha frowned. "A sock?"

"An Iron Man sock, no less," Wanda said, rolling her eyes. "Stark _would_ be that kind of person, I suppose."

"Actually," Steve muttered, "I think that sock gives more support to your theory, Sam."

"Yes!" Sam whooped. "What did I tell you. An illegitimate son. It's the _only_ logical explanation."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Wow. How unimaginative."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at his remark. "And what do you mean by that, exactly?"

Rhodey slowly got to his feet, smirking at the four of them. "What if his kid is an illegitimate daughter?"

"Well shit," Sam muttered as the colonel left. "Didn't see that coming."

xXxXxXx

"So, where do you want to go for dinner?" Tony asked, glancing at his watch while Peter was shoving the many items he'd gotten at the Expo into a suitcase. "I figure we go out to eat, come back for the night, and leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good to me," Peter said, muttering a curse under his breath as he practically had to sit on his suitcase in order to zip it.

"Watch your language," Tony said, biting back a laugh as Peter glared at him. It never failed to be entertaining to correct the kid on his language even when Tony was aware that he himself was a frequent - _very_ frequent - user of expletives. "Seriously, though. What do you have in mind to eat?"

Peter shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. I mean, I don't know much about the kind of food around here."

"Well, I have an easy solution." Tony took his phone out of his pocket, typing in a few commands before FRIDAY projected images of several restaurants into the room. He began to swipe through them slowly, gesturing for Peter to sit next to him. "Your choice."

Peter joined him, studying each option and dismissing them until there was only one left. "This seems cute."

It was a quaint little shop, by the looks of it. Tony figured it was probably owned by locals. In his experience, that did often result in better food. "Looks good to me," he said, saving the address. "FRIDAY, what are the ratings?"

"92% positive," FRIDAY said after a pause while Tony stood, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and his wallet. "Your dining experience should be pleasant."

"Perfect," Tony said, clapping his hands together. "Then let's go."

The drive there wasn't long, and conversation was mostly one-sided on Peter's part, who read his conversation with Ned aloud to Tony and showing him several pictures he'd taken during their time at the Expo. Tony didn't mind, of course. The kid's excitement was contagious.

FRIDAY had been right; the food _was_ delicious. There had only been one problem; their waiter had been… Less than cooperative. It was obvious as to why, too - the man was not a fan of Tony Stark.

Tony couldn't blame him for that. He wasn't a fan of himself, either.

Peter, however, was fuming.

"What is his problem?!" he demanded, clenching his fist and glaring at the waiter as the man returned to the back of the diner. "You haven't even done anything!"

Tony sighed. "Maybe not at this moment, but…" He laughed bitterly, mind drifting back to Ultron and Sovokia and Zemo and - yeah, the path he walked was covered in blood. "I've done more than enough before. It's hard to erase nearly fifty years of infamy, kid."

"Still," Peter muttered. "Politeness should be a facet of basic human decency."

Tony shrugged. "There's nothing you can do, kid. Out of sight, out of mind."

Peter looked like he wanted to protest further, but much to Tony's relief the kid's phone rang, effectively distracting him. "Huh," he mumbled as he looked at the caller ID. "It's May. I wonder what she wants." He answered. "Hello?"

Tony tuned out on the conversation, not wanting to intrude. Although, it _was_ amusing to watch Peter's expressions shift from embarrassed to excited to exasperated in a matter of seconds. He pulled out his own phone, revealing a few messages from Rhodey.

 _rhodey: Apparently Sam's been snooping around the house, because he found that Father's Day card Peter got you. He's 110% convinced some kid with the initials P.P. is your illegitimate son._

 _rhodey: Oh, get this: Peter left shoeprints in the corner of the ceiling (wtf man), which of course no one has an explanation for. I'm not telling them._

 _rhodey: Wanda just found an Iron Man sock. She thinks it's yours. Sam thinks it's your illegitimate son's. When everyone asked me, I said maybe it was your illegitimate daughter's. I left after that. 10/10 expressions, Tones._

 _tstark: So I also have that conversation to look forward to when I get back. Thank you so much, darling._

 _rhodey: Don't worry, I'll help you through it. In all seriousness, when are you getting back? They keep asking._

 _tstark: Sometime tomorrow if everything goes as planned._

 _rhodey: Alright. How was the Expo?_

 _tstark: Pretty fun. Check this out._

 _1 image attached_

 _tstark: Peter and I officially have matching shirts now._

 _rhodey: Please tell me you'll wear those tomorrow. I would die to see the expressions on their faces, especially Sam's._

 _tstark: I already told you I don't want Peter getting involved with them._

 _rhodey: He doesn't have to be. It's better that they're just going to see you with a "father" shirt but no child in sight. Please, Tones. For me._

 _tstark: Only for you, honeybear._

"Um, Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked up to see an blushing Peter holding out his phone.

"May wants to speak with you."

Tony blinked in surprise, then accepted the phone. "Yes?"

"Good evening, Mr. Stark," May said. "At least, I assume it's evening. Anyways. It has come to my attention that you decided to leave Manhattan and take Peter to the D23 Expo _without_ notifying me."

Tony winced. She had a point. He'd been so caught up in trying to avoid the Rogue Avengers that he hadn't thought to call her. "You're right. That's entirely on me."

"Damn right it is." Tony could picture the woman rolling her eyes. "Now, I'm not _too_ angry, because Peter had been planning to go to this thing for several years, and I _did_ know it was this month, but Peter - being Peter - completely neglected to tell me the exact date. However, I still would have appreciated a call."

"I completely agree," Tony replied. "It was irresponsible of me to up and leave without letting you know. If another trip is planned, you will be notified weeks in advance."

"Hmm," May muttered. "You're being more cooperative than I expected." She chuckled. "Could it be you've grown even more fond of Peter now that he's staying with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony said dismissively. "He's just as annoying as the day you dropped him off."

"Hey!" Peter squawked. "Rude."

May chuckled from the other end of the line. "Is that so?"

"Of course," Tony replied simply.

"Mhmm. That explains those matching t-shirts Peter posted on his private Instagram, right?"

Tony winced. She had him there. "Okay, fine. The kid isn't _completely_ terrible to be around."

Peter rolled his eyes dramatically, and Tony had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. "You're _too_ kind, Mr. Stark."

"God, I know," Tony quipped. "If I keep it up I won't be considered a 'tough guy' anymore."

"I think that was all I wanted to lecture you about," May continued. "I'm trusting you to take care of my baby, Mr. Stark. Call me if there's a problem, keep his Spider-Man activities limited to nothing past eleven, and tell him that he'd better listen to you or else there will be hell to pay."

Tony chuckled. "You got it, Ms. Parker. Enjoy your trip."

"Thank you. If you don't mind, could you give Peter his phone back?"

"Of course." Tony offered Peter the phone, and the kid grudgingly accepted it.

"I will, May," Peter said after a pause. "Yes, I promise." He groaned. "I love you, too. See you in a few weeks." He hung up, and Tony couldn't help but snicker at how red the kid's face was. "Not a word, Mr. Stark."

Tony held up his hands in surrender, still snickering. "I wasn't going to say anything."

Peter snorted. "Right. Of course you weren't."

They finished the rest of their meal quickly, and Tony was pleased to note that Peter's cheery attitude didn't seem to dissipate even with the obnoxious waiter. Tony still tipped heavily, something his mother had ingrained into him from an early age.

The waiter did seem shocked at this, and regret seemed to flash over his face for a split second before being replaced by disgust. "Uh, thanks. I guess." He shoved the money into the front of his apron. "There's a surprise for you waiting outside. I hope you don't mind. It's just that this diner gets so little publicity. I thought it would be good for business."

Okay, _now_ Tony was starting to get irritated. He turned around and bit back a sigh because - sure enough - there were at least a dozen reporters outside, waiting to ambush the one and only Tony Stark the moment he went outside. Normally he would have been no more than inconvenienced, but of course some random waiter would have it out for him the day Peter was with him.

"If that's all, I'll be going now."

Tony sighed, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. "Fine. Thank you."

"I told you that guy had problems," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "You should trust me, Mr. Stark."

"Forgive me for not trusting the kid with zero years of experience dealing with assholes under his belt," Tony said, wincing as his words came out more irritated than he felt. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to -"

"I wouldn't say _zero_ years of experience," Peter mumbled, his voice so low Tony almost didn't catch it. "Just experience from a different kind of asshole."

Tony frowned. "We're going to have a serious discussion about that later, kid. But for now." He sighed, glancing back at the reporters. "We - well, _I_ \- have to deal with that, first." He returned his attention to Peter. "This is what you're going to do, Spiderling. Head down. Stay behind me, out of view of as many cameras as possible. Ignore any reporter that tries to talk to you. If they don't leave you alone, I _will_ throw my jacket over your head, so be prepared for that."

Peter laughed. "Okay. Thank you for the warning."

"As per usual, I will answer three questions that I'm asked," Tony continued. "But if at any point the sounds and the lights get to be too much, _let me know_. I will get us out of there in my suit if I have to."

Peter laughed again. "Don't worry, Mr. Stark." He reached into his bookbag - Tony noticed he was very insistent on carrying it everywhere, and part of him wondered if there was a certain webslinging suit inside - and pulled out a pair of sunglasses and headphones. "I've started keeping my sensory overload stuff with me. And since I'd never been to D23 before, I definitely wanted to have them. Just in case I got overwhelmed."

Tony felt something flicker inside of him. Could it have been… Pride? More than likely. How could he not - hell, how could _anyone_ not be proud of Peter? The kid had been through hell and highwater more than his fair share of times yet always came out with a smile. "You're a genius, Pete."

Peter beamed at him. "I wish, Mr. Stark. But thank you." He quickly slipped the sunglasses on and stuck the earbuds in his ears. "How do I look?"

"Like you just robbed a bank and are trying to be discreet," Tony replied. "It's perfect." He reached over and pulled the kid's hood up over his head. "That completes the look." He paused. "Wait, when did you get that SI sweatshirt?"

Peter laughed nervously. "Uh… Well, you see, what had happened was -"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do with this kid? "Okay, nevermind. That story will have to wait until later." He clapped his hands together. "Alright. Lucky I parked near the entrance, huh?"

"Yep," Peter said enthusiastically. "I'm ready when you are, Mr. Stark!"

Tony couldn't help but smile. "Let's do it, kid."

xXxXxXx

Natasha idly flipped through channels, Sam scrolling on his phone next to her. Steve was reading a book, glasses perched ever so elegantly on the edge of his nose. Wanda was painting her nails. Rhodey had long since abandoned them.

"If only Ross knew we were here," Sam muttered. "He'd throw one hell of a hissy fit."

"Don't forget we're basically exploiting Tony by being here in the first place," Natasha countered. "You know as well as I do that we don't really have a _right_ to be in this tower currently."

"Except for the fact that we weren't in the wrong," Wanda said, rolling her eyes. "I cannot believe -"

"Wanda, if we weren't in the wrong, do you care to explain why we are fugitives from the law?" Natasha interrupted. She understood where the girl was coming from - really, she did, and she sympathized with it - but idealism could only get a person so far before they crashed and burned. "Tony signed the Accords and if anything his life seems to have improved. All we've done is run _away_. The Accords were about responsibility. Accountability. And the fact that we don't dare face consequences only shows how much those regulations _were_ needed."

Wanda stared at her, eyes wide. "I don't -"

"What Natasha is _trying_ to say is that we all screwed up," Sam said. "We all made a shit ton of mistakes. Maybe ours were worse. So what? We deal with it and we move on. That's all we _can_ do."

"If running from the law is dealing with it," Natasha grumbled. Sometimes she forgot how dense her teammates could be.

"Hey, Nat - go back a channel."

Natasha turned to see Steve staring intently at the TV. "Why?"

"Trust me," he said, impatience hedging at the edge of his voice. "Go back."

She did as instructed, revealing… "Is that Tony?"

That got everyone's attention. The man was outside some diner of sorts, though the dozens of camera flashes made it difficult to see where.

"I will take three questions," Tony said, though his voice was barely audible over the sound of all the people shouting at him. "And may I point out that those of you _not_ invading my personal space are more likely to be chosen."

It grew immediately quieter after that.

"Thank you," Tony said, adjusting his glasses. "Alright… Curly hair." He pointed at a reporter, who stepped forward to get their microphone closer to him.

"Mr. Stark. I'm sure you've heard the rumors that the Rogue Avengers have returned to New York. Is there anything you'd like to comment on regarding these suspicions?"

Tony shrugged. "I've heard the rumors, yes, and I think that's exactly what they are: rumors. The Rogue Avengers have no need to return to New York, much less would they _want_ to return here. Criminals don't return to the scene of the crime, especially after a year, correct?"

"Criminals?!" Wanda sputtered. "How _dare_ he -"

"We _are_ criminals," Natasha interrupted, "whether _you_ like it or not."

"Both of you, shut up," Sam snapped. "I want to hear the next question."

"Mr. Stark, no one has forgotten your epic team-up with Spider-Man a few months ago," another reporter said. "Will we see a second cooperative effort with the webslinger anytime soon?"

A smirk twitched at the corner of Tony's lips, which puzzled Natasha. Clearly the man knew something he wasn't telling. She remembered Spider-Man assisting them at the airport, but had figured Tony would end all contact with him after the fact. Apparently she was wrong.

"Maybe, maybe not," Tony said with a shrug. "I keep in touch with him, but Queens is really his arena. I just happened to be in town for the day. I'll let him keep doing his own thing unless it becomes necessary to step in. Last question." He pointed at a third reporter. "You."

"Mr. Stark, the wedding of you and Pepper Potts grows nearer by the day. Many are wondering whether we can expect children from the two of you. Is there anything you have to say about these speculations?"

Tony paused. "I'm not sure," he finally said. "It's not something we've discussed. Maybe we should give it some thought." He nodded at the reporter. "Thank you for your question. That's all I'll be answering tonight."

Natasha noticed that as he stepped into his car, there was someone following him. Someone shorter, though not by much. Glasses hid their face, and they were only on camera for a split second before they vanished.

"That's his son!" Sam yelled triumphantly, jumping up from the couch. "That dude behind him? With the black sweatshirt? I'd bet you _anything_ that's Stark's kid. Natasha, rewind it."

"FRIDAY, shut that off."

Everyone turned to see Rhodey standing in the doorway, glaring coldly at all of them.

"Right away, sir," FRIDAY replied, and there was click as the screen went to black.

Rhodey sighed, massaging his temples. "Apparently I can't leave you unattended for ten minutes or else you do everything in your power to dig into Tony's personal life." He crossed his arms over his chest. " _None_ of you can resist the urge -"

"I didn't even know they were engaged. Him and Pepper." Natasha turned around to see Steve sitting on a chair, shoulders slumped and eyes staring blankly at the ground. "I… I had no idea."

There was a silence that seemed to stretch a lifetime.

"You're right," Rhodey finally said. "You didn't know. And maybe you should think about why, Captain." With that, he turned and left.

Steve ran his hands through his hair. "We've missed a lot, haven't we?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice hushed. "Yes, we have."

xXxXxXx

The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Peter was beyond ecstatic that his sunglasses and headphones had done their job perfectly, but the events of the day had nonetheless drained his energy. Apparently over 12 hours at the D23 Expo followed by dinner with an asshole of a waiter and then being confronted by a horde of paparazzi really took it out of a person.

He noticed that Mr. Stark seemed distant after the question of the last reporter. Sure, the man's gaze was glued to the road, but Peter knew his mind was elsewhere. And he had a gut feeling about why.

"Mr. Stark?" he said, leaning back into his seat and shutting his eyes.

"Hmm?"

"I think you'd be a great parent."

And though Peter couldn't see it, he knew his mentor was smiling.

"Thanks, kid."

The last thing he remembered was a hand gently running through his hair before he fell asleep.

xXxXxXx

"Are we _there_ yet?" Peter was bored. _Very_ bored. The drive _to_ the Expo had been fine because he'd been looking forward to it, but the drive _back_? Miserable. The epitome of suffering. He was dying. But death seemed more preferable than three hours in a car.

"Sorry, not yet," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "You're more impatient than me, kid. We're barely thirty minutes away. You can see the tower from here."

"Thirty minutes of torture left for me to endure," Peter said with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, the agony."

Tony shook his head, though he gave Peter an amused grin. "You're killing me, Pete."

"No, _you're_ killing _me_ ," Peter corrected. "Put the pedal to the metal, Mr. Stark. I want to be out of this car already."

"I will gladly let you out by the side of the road if you keep complaining."

Peter rolled his eyes but laughed. He felt his phone buzz, pulling it out of his pocket to see several missed messages from Ned and MJ in what appeared to be a new group chat.

 _Michelle Jones: so what's the deal. has stark adopted peter or what_

 _Ned Leeds: nah he's just staying there for this month. may won a cruise_

 _Michelle Jones: ? why was i not informed of this?_

 _Ned Leeds: you were. but you were probably reading_

 _Michelle Jones: fair enough_

 _Ned Leeds changed their nickname to spidermanfan_

 _Michelle Jones: of course you would_

 _Michelle Jones changed their nickname to iwoulddieforpepperpotts_

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts changed your nickname to peterstarkson_

 _spidermanfan: HA wait until peter sees that_

 _peterstarkson: i feel attacked on a very personal level._

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts: you should. i'll change it when you set me up for an interview with pepper potts_

 _peterstarkson: done_

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts: yesss_

 _spidermanfan: so how was the expo?_

 _peterstarkson: it was pretty fun. mr. stark and i are wearing our matching shirts rn which is very cool since i didn't think he would actually go for it lmao. but,, it would have been even better with you there, dude, not gonna lie_

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts: go again next year_

 _peterstarkson: with what money mj_

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts: ask ur dad_

 _peterstarkson: i can't do that to mr. stark_

 _iwoulddieforpepperpotts: well at least you have standards_

"FRIDAY, transmit Rhodey to the car's speakers, please and thank you," Tony said, drawing Peter's attention away from his friends. Soon the voice of the colonel filled the air.

"Remember the alien tech that was 90% confiscated after P - uh, _Spider-Man_ , sorry, defeated the Vulture?"

Peter was instantly alert, shoving his phone into his bag and earning a warning look from Tony.

"Yeah, I do," his mentor replied. "Why? What about it?"

"Well, the 10% _not_ found is currently being used to rob a bank downtown," Rhodey said. "I'm on my way there now. Our… Guests have been given strict instructions not to leave the tower unless they want to be arrested. Is Iron Man feeling up for a little trip?"

Tony sighed. "When is he not?" The man pulled over into an empty parking lot. "I'll be there soon."

"Alright. I sent the address to FRIDAY. See you in a bit."

There was a click as Rhodey hung up, and Peter felt himself shrink as Tony turned in his seat, glaring sternly at him.

"You will _not_ leave this car. Understand?" Tony ordered.

Peter's jaw dropped. "What?! Why am I not allowed to help?"

"Because I don't want you putting your life on the line when it's something Rhodey and I are perfectly capable of handling," Tony snapped. "Okay?"

Peter groaned. "Mr. Stark -"

"No." Tony stepped out of the car, tapping the arc reactor on his chest. Despite how irritated he was, Peter was still in awe of how the nanoparticles seemed to solidify around his mentor in a matter of seconds. "FRIDAY, don't let him out."

"Yes sir."

"Hey!" Peter resisted the urge to punch a hole through the window as the car locked and the older man flew off into the distance. "What the hell?!"

"Watch your language, Peter," FRIDAY said. She sounded amused.

 _notspiderman: apparently someone's robbing a bank with alien tech. mr. stark told me not to go with him but i think i should bc i have more experience with alien tech, technically speaking_

 _guyinthechair: obviously? go! right now!_

Peter quickly pulled his Spider-Man suit out of his bag and changed into it in record time, simply pulling it over his civilian clothes instead of stripping down to his boxers. He cursed as he remembered that he only had one functioning webshooter.

"Hello, Peter," Karen greeted him. "Your suit appears to be compromised. Shall I contact Mr. Stark?"

"No need, Karen," Peter muttered as he tried to figure out the best way out of the car. "I'm heading to him right now." He didn't _want_ to rip off the door, but… "FRIDAY, on a scale of one to ten how angry would Mr. Stark be if I broke his car?"

"2.7," FRIDAY said after a pause.

Peter shrugged. "That's alright, I guess." He then proceeded to punch the door, effectively removing it from the vehicle. "FRIDAY, don't tell Mr. Stark I'm on my way unless he asks, okay?" He had learned that including 'unless he asks' to the end of his requests toward FRIDAY served as an effective loophole for escaping trouble.

"Certainly, Peter."

"Alright, Karen," he said, studying the area around him. "You're going to have to help me aim today, since only one webshooter is functioning. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Karen said pleasantly. "Where are we heading?"

"Uh…" Right. Peter didn't know the actual coordinates. "Well, it's a bank downtown?"

Karen hummed in displeasure. "That's not very specific."

Peter frantically searched for a solution. "Well… Wait!" He beamed, rather proud of himself. "Check for news reports about downtown Manhattan. I'm sure there's _something_ that has to do alien weapons being used."

There was a pause, and then his AI said, "Coordinates locked in. Ready to go?"

"Yes!" Peter cheered. "Let's do this, Karen."

xXxXxXx

"Well, this looks like fun," Tony commented as he landed beside Rhodey in front of the bank, his mask popping open. "Are they holding hostages?"

"Fortunately, no," his friend replied. "But they _are_ razing this building to the ground because they don't know how to control their own weapons."

"Of course," Tony muttered. "Should have known. Has the building been fully evacuated?"

"Almost," Rhodey said. "They don't want us going in until they've emptied the bottom two floors because of structural damage on the third and fourth already. But we should be getting the go ahead any second now."

As if on cue, a police officer ran up to the two of them. "You're clear to go in."

Rhodey's mask snapped shut, Tony's a split second behind.

"I'll get the fourth floor," Tony said through the intercom. "My nanotech suit is more agile than yours."

"Copy that," Rhodey replied. "Good luck."

At first, everything seemed simple enough. Tony was able to carry two civilians out at once, and after four quick trips had gotten nearly everyone out of the building. However, the lack of the presence of the robbers with the alien equipment was worrying. According to both police and Rhodey, only one of four had been apprehended. That meant three were still in the bank.

The last person on the fourth floor was a young girl, very clearly a college student, with deep auburn hair and dark brown eyes.

"Hey," Tony said softly, landing beside her. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Everything is going to be fine."

She nodded tentatively, and he carefully cradled her, doing his best to support her back. He'd learned the hard way that carrying people any other way tended to result in spinal issues.

The building suddenly shook, and the loud groaning of its already fractured support system was less than comforting. The girl screamed, hiding her face in Tony's armor. He couldn't blame her.

It was just his luck that the moment he was going to reach safety, someone stepped out of the shadows behind a pile of rubble. Tony muttered a curse as a glowing purple weapon was aimed directly at him.

"Well, you wouldn't think they'd send Iron Man to deal with some lowly little robbers, would you?" the person sneered, voice distinctly masculine. "How interesting to know the _legendary_ Tony Stark finally feels the average person is worth his time. It only took a fancy weapon or two to get his attention."

Tony resisted the urge to sigh. Was he afraid for his life? Not particularly. The girl's? More so. But it was hard to take the guy seriously. "I'm sorry you feel underappreciated, sir, but that's no excuse to rob a bank and then cause the building to collapse while there are people still inside."

"For someone who values life so much you sure don't care about anyone's but your own," the man snapped. Tony felt his pulse quicken as the weapon began to glow brighter. "It would be _my_ pleasure to end your life now."

The girl screamed, covering her face.

Tony instinctively turned away, expecting to hear a blast, but instead -

"You really shouldn't be aiming this at people. You might hurt someone!"

Tony spun around - still holding the girl - only to see Spider-Man now holding the alien weapon, which thankfully appeared to be powering down.

"What's up, Mr. Iron Man?" the red and blue superhero asked cheerily. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Tony's eyes narrowed, though he knew the kid couldn't see his face because of his armor. "Yes. What a strange coincidence."

Spider-Man quickly webbed the robber's hands together before webbing the man's mouth shut. "If you don't mind, Iron Man, could you get this guy out of here? I can take care of this weapon."

Tony wanted to say no. He'd never wanted to say _no_ so badly in his life. "Fine," he said, grabbing the robber and shoving him beneath his arm, who nevertheless thrashed around. "I'll be back. _Do not_ get killed."

Spider-Man saluted him, and Tony could picture Peter beaming beneath the mask. "Yes sir!"

Tony flew out of the window - or at least what was left of it - and deposited the two, the girl being rushed to an ambulance for precautionary measures as the robber was escorted into a police car.

"Heard a little friend showed up," Rhodey said as he handed over a robber he'd apprehended to the police. "Is he still in there?"

"Unfortunately," Tony growled. "The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man has apparently extended his neighborhood." He cracked his neck. "I'll be back. Keep everything running smoothly out here."

"Will do."

Tony flew back into the building. The amount of groaning it was doing concerned him, and the amount of rubble falling did not assuage his fears. As soon as he found Peter…

That kid was _so_ grounded.

xXxXxXx

As Parker luck would have it, Peter stumbled upon another robber less than a minute after Mr. Stark had left.

"So this is Spider-Man," they snarled. If Peter had to guess he would have said the voice was female, but he wasn't sure. A ski mask hid their face and hair. "I've heard a lot about you from old friends. Something about saving Stark's plane - am I correct?"

Peter shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. I may have had a hand in it."

The person grinned wickedly. "Perfect. Now I have an excuse to kill you."

Peter yelped as he dodged a blast from the alien gun, wincing as it dissolved the wall behind him. "I'm not sure I can afford to pay to fix that."

They shrugged. "Maybe your life insurance will cover it."

Peter almost felt like he was dancing as he dodged shot after shot. There was only so much attacking he could do when only one webshooter was functional. In retrospect, he'd gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. But when the time called for it, Peter could be patient. He could wait for the perfect opportunity, the moment to strike.

And there it was.

The robber turned to their left a split second too slow, and that was all the time Peter needed.

He fired a taser web, electrifying the robber. The alien weapon flew across the room, but that wasn't his priority. Peter webbed the person's hands together before grabbing them and jumping out the window. But the weapon was still in the building. He turned over the robber to police before swinging back up, ignoring Rhodey's shouts to stay out of there.

He probably should have listened.

The alien weapon was on the floor, sparking and thrashing like there was no tomorrow. Panic mode set in, and Peter began shooting webs at it, hoping to contain the inevitable blast. It hadn't worked on the ferry, but surely it would work now, right?

Of course not.

Peter screamed as the gun exploded, white hot pain flashing through his shoulder as the building fell to pieces around him.

He heard shouting. Someone, yelling his name over and over and over -

Falling.

He was falling.

His eyes slammed shut.

Quiet.

xXxXxXx

"The building collapsed," Natasha whispered. "Oh my God."

The four Rogue Avengers were glued to the edge of the couch, eyes fixated on the TV as they watched the live report of the bank robbery in downtown Manhattan.

"I didn't see Spider-Man get out," Wanda said. Even she seemed worried. "Stark flew back in, too."

"And we can't do a damn thing about it." Steve ran his hands through his hair, brow furrowed in frustration. "All we can do is sit and watch."

"And wait," Natasha murmured. "Sit, watch, and wait."

"We should be out there," Sam growled. "We should be _helping_ them!"

"But we can't!" Natasha snapped. She wanted to punch something. _Anything_. "Because of the decisions we made, we can't. There's nothing we can do to change it. At least not now." Her eyes were drawn back to the TV. "We can only wait."

xXxXxXx

Tony flew out the back of the broken building, Peter unconscious in his arms. "Rhodey, I need you _now_ ," he said through the intercom in his suit, praying his voice wasn't as panicked as he felt. "FRIDAY sent you the coordinates, but we're barely a block away from the bank. Peter's hurt."

"I'll be there as fast as I can," his friend said. "But I'm only going to have time to do basic treatment before I have to go back and handle damage control here."

"That's fine." Tony landed, his armor retracting into his arc reactor before he placed Peter on the ground in the cleanest spot he could find, leaning him up against the wall. "It's a shoulder wound. Looks like a burn from the gun when it exploded."

"Copy that." Rhodey landed beside him only a few seconds later, stepping out of his suit before grabbing the first aid kit from inside. "You're lucky I haven't taken this old thing out yet, Tones."

"But why would you ever take it out?" Tony asked with a strained laugh. "Safety first."

Rhodey rolled his eyes but grew serious as he knelt down beside Peter, pulling away the already torn suit from the kid's shoulder. Tony flinched at the charred skin and dried blood around the wound.

"I have good news," Rhodey said after a pause. "It's superficial. No tissue damage besides the skin." He opened the first aid kit, pulling out a bottle of alcohol and a roll of bandages. "I can give him essentially all of the treatment he'll need right now. After that, change the bandages every eight hours until he's healed. Which shouldn't take, right?"

Tony nodded. "Yes. Spider bite gave him enhanced healing."

"Great." Rhodey sighed. "But here's the bad news. This is pure alcohol." He held up the bottle. "It's going to sting like hell, and I don't think Peter is entirely unconscious. He's going to feel it, so…"

"You need me to hold him down," Tony finished. The thought made his stomach roll.

"Yes," Rhodey said. "Trust me, Tones. It's the only way to prevent infection. Speed is of the essence."

So Tony held him down. Peter didn't wake up - not technically. Instead, he thrashed around as alcohol washed through his wound and dripped down the rest of his arm, face contorted in pain while his mind refused to resurface.

Five minutes later, it was done. Peter's shoulder was bandaged tightly enough to stop the bleeding but not cut off blood flow.

"Take my advice and try to get back to the tower discreetly," Rhodey instructed as he stepped back into the War Machine suit. "If you go inside before I get back, don't let Cap and crew know you're there."

Tony nodded, managing a small smile. "Roger that, honeybear." As his friend flew away, Tony noticed that there was something beneath Peter's Spider-Man suit. Was it…? He almost laughed. The kid had his civilian clothes on underneath.

As quickly and cautiously as he could, Tony peeled Peter's Spider-Man suit off of him, doing his best not to touch the kid's bandages. He didn't want to move him until he woke up, which gave Rhodey extra time to get back to the tower before the two of them did.

There was a sharp gasp, and Tony's attention was immediately drawn to Peter. The kid had woken up.

xXxXxXx

Peter was falling. Falling. He could see the ground beneath him but at the same time he knew he was never going to land. He was being crushed, concrete weighing him down, dust filling his lungs - he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe -

"Peter!"

His name. Someone was calling his name.

"Peter, I need you to calm down."

Why couldn't he see? He felt someone grab his arms and he instinctively pulled away, the feel of someone touching him making his skin crawl.

"Pete, I need you to open your eyes."

The voice was strained. Peter didn't know whether to listen or not. He could feel slabs on concrete on his chest, he couldn't lift them, he couldn't breathe -

" _Peter_. Open your eyes."

Peter clenched his fists, telling himself that there was no concrete, no dust, he was _alive_ -

He opened his eyes, only to see a worried Tony Stark looking at him.

"Kid," his mentor said slowly. "What happened?"

Peter shook his head, his voice caught in his throat. In the back of his mind he was humiliated that he'd panicked in front of Mr. Stark, but everything, every other sense, was on overdrive. The quiet was too loud, the dark was too bright. "Nothing," he finally managed to say.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Kid. C'mon."

Peter did _not_ want to be given a lecture on trauma and PTSD. He was fine. So what if the Vulture had knocked a building on him and now he had an unreasonable fear of concrete? It was _fine_. "Nothing," he repeated. "I just… Got overwhelmed. Sensory shit." Hopefully he sounded more believable than he felt.

Tony still appeared skeptical.

Peter desperately wanted to change the subject. "Anyways, I think we should - _what the hell_." He winced as pain shot through his arm, eyes widening as he realized his entire shoulder was bandaged.

"Yeah, be careful about moving," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Rhodey already fixed you up, and it's only a superficial wound, so in theory with your enhanced healing you could be back to normal by tomorrow. But you should still be careful." He handed him his Spider-Man suit. "I took the liberty of getting you out of this. Lucky for the both of us you had civilian clothes on underneath, huh?"

Peter managed a small laugh, accepting the suit. "Heh. Yeah, I guess that ended up working out."

There was a pause, and uncertainty and hesitation seemed to dance on his mentor's face. He was about to ask what was wrong, but suddenly the man pulled him into a hug.

"I"m glad you're okay," Tony breathed, his chin resting on top of Peter's head. "I think my heart stopped beating for a goddamn minute when I saw you fall."

Peter's entire body tensed, but relief finally seeped through his bones. He was okay. He wasn't falling. There was no concrete, no dust filling his lungs.

He was okay.

He returned Mr. Stark's hug, burying his face in the man's shoulder. Someday, he would tell the man everything about the Vulture, and the building, and, and - and everything. He would. But not yet. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. Didn't mean to make you worry."

Tony laughed, pulling away. "You really do always apologize when you have no reason to, huh?"

Peter flushed. "Uh… Sorry?"

Tony shook his head, eyes still dancing with worry but an amused smile on his lips. "I should have known you'd say that, kid."

Peter froze, then groaned. "No…" He pouted, looking down at his bandaged arm. "Our shirts don't match anymore because Colonel Rhodes had to rip my sleeve off."

Tony shrugged, chuckling. "I'm sure we can sew it back on at some point. I've fixed one or two articles of clothing in my life." He paused before continuing. "Okay. Here's the plan."

Peter almost laughed at his sense of deja vu.

"I'm going to get you into the tower through the back. You will go to your room and stay there. Find some way to entertain yourself and all that jazz. Walls are soundproof, so in theory you could blast music, but I don't recommend it."

That earned a laugh from Peter. "Right. Of course."

Tony chuckled. "Anyways. Rhodey and I will handle the Rogue Avengers. We'll try to keep it under ten minutes. After that, you and I can go through all the photos you took on the trip. Send some to me, some to Pepper, some to your aunt, and print some to put in a photo album. Whatever. Sound good?"

Peter smiled at his mentor. "Perfect."

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Rhodey's just left for the tower, so he'll get there before us, which is good. _We_ , Mr. Parker, need to go find my car."

Peter flushed. He _had_ abandoned it, hadn't he? And he'd also… Ripped the door off. "Speaking of your car, Mr. Stark, I may have, er, kinda sorta had to punch the door out in order to come help you?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "My God, kid. It's your fault I have gray hair."

"Oops?"

Tony chuckled. "Eh. Don't worry about it. I have a hundred other cars. The one you've broken wasn't anywhere close to my top ten favorites. And I'm sure it can still be driven without the passenger door."

Peter didn't know whether to be relieved or offended that Mr. Stark hadn't driven to the Expo in one of his favorite cars. Maybe his mentor had instinctively known he would find a way to break it. "Can FRIDAY send you the coordinates of it?"

Tony smirked. "Lucky for you, yes she can." He stood, helping Peter up. "You think you can walk, kid?"

Peter rolled his eyes, nodding. "I hurt my arm, Mr. Stark. My legs remain undamaged."

"Can you blame me for being cautious?" Tony protested as they started walking. "I don't even want to _think_ about the injuries you hid from your aunt before she knew you were Spider-Man."

"Oof," Peter said, wincing. "Okay, yeah. That's a good point."

"I know it is."

"Of course you do, Mr. Stark."

xXxXxXx

Natasha jumped to her feet as Rhodey entered the living room, flecks of dust from the collapsed bank still in his hair. "What happened?" she demanded. "Is Tony okay? And Spider-Man?"

"They're both fine," he said calmly. There was a collective sigh of relief. "Tony's taking care of some stuff, but he'll be here soon. Spider-Man has gone to…" Rhodey frowned. "Okay, I'm not entirely sure where Spider-Man has gone. Probably back to Queens, since that seems to be his home turf."

"Wonder what he was doing in Manhattan," Steve mused.

Rhodey shrugged. "Who knows? But we're lucky he was. That building might have collapsed sooner without his being there, or there might have been people still inside when it did."

"It seems like a strange coincidence," Wanda muttered. "What are the odds of both Spider-Man and Iron Man, apparently known by the general public to have teamed up before, to be in the same area at the same time?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "If they know each other, why would it be a coincidence? I wouldn't be surprised if Tony had seen the magnitude of the task of dealing with _highly dangerous_ alien technology and decided to radio a friend for help." He glanced at his watch. "Look, Tony should be returning any minute now. I would tell you to be on your best behavior, but you've all proved me time and time again that you don't have one."

Wanda was seething. "How _dare_ you -"

"Nah, he's right," Sam interrupted, chuckling. "We've been away from civilization for so long I don't think we even have _good_ behavior."

That earned a snort from Natasha. "You're not wrong."

Rhodey pulled his phone out of his pocket, reading a message before shoving it back in. "Alright. Tony's coming up the elevator now." He glared icily at each of them. "Steve, you know what happened in Siberia. You know you were wrong, and you know how much you hurt Tony. Don't forget it. Wanda, I may never forgive you for Ultron, though I've damn well tried. Sam, you jumped to conclusion after conclusion about Tony and what you thought he would think, each of them ultimately wrong. Natasha…" His shoulders fell. "You've played your cards. Accept it." He crossed his arms just as the doors of the elevator slid open, revealing a very tired, and very worn, Tony Stark.

xXxXxXx

Tony could feel the room grow silent as he walked in. He briefly wondered if anyone was still breathing.

Rhodey moved to beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I've got your back," he murmured. "Don't stress out."

Tony nodded, still unable to ignore the growing pit of anxiety in his stomach. He blinked, and suddenly was in front of the Rogue Avengers. He didn't remember walking across the room, but apparently in his mindless state he had.

Go figure.

Steve reached out, offering a handshake. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Not long enough. Tony cleared his throat and accepted Steve's hand. "Yes. A few months." The tension in the air was so thick a chainsaw would struggle to cut it.

"Okay, look," Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know this is supposed to be a serious conversation about the Accords and the state of the government and whatever, but I have a more important question that needs to be addressed right away. Tony." He pointed at the billionaire's shirt. " _That_ is clearly from a father-son set. We know you have a kid. We found his socks and his homework and his father's day card to you. So 'fess up. Who is P.P.?"

Tony rolled his eyes as Rhodey snickered. He should have known this would be the first thing they'd want to talk about. "I'm sure it disappoints you to hear this, but no, P.P. is not my son. I have a grand total of zero children. Pepper won't even let me bring up the subject."

Sam frowned, skeptical. "So, is the kid not Pepper's? Maybe a child from your playboy era?"

Tony sighed, though he tried to keep his voice light-hearted. "Sam. _If_ I happen to have a long-lost biological son, I don't know about him. Again, I'm sure that is disappointing to hear, and I apologize."

"Oh come _on_ , Stark," Sam protested. "You can't really expect us to believe -" He paused as Rhodey cleared his throat. "Er, never mind."

Tony had never been so thankful Rhodey was there. He didn't want to accidentally let something slip out about Peter - or worse, Spider-Man.

"I like the red in your hair," Natasha commented. "It looks good on you."

Tony gave her a wry smile. "That's a high compliment coming from the Queen of Red Hair herself."

Natasha chuckled. "Oh, is Pepper not a worthy contender for the crown?"

Tony couldn't help but relax, if only slightly. He could do this. "Well, Pep is the Empress. You don't hold a candle to her."

"Agreed," Natasha smirked.

Silence fell. Awkward tension resumed. It was almost getting old. Sure, Tony was as uncomfortable as the next person, but it was embarrassing how none of them were able to speak to each other like normal human beings. "Alright," he finally said. "I know you're here about the Accords. What do you want to know?"

"What progress is being made, if any at all," Steve replied. "Rumors have been floating around about potential pardons. Is there any truth to them?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "You say 'if any at all' like we're not running our asses into the ground trying to clean up the messes you and your crew have left behind, Rogers."

"I didn't mean it like that," Steve said stiffly. "I was simply trying to recognize that you are both busy, i.e. with the upcoming wedding and whatever is going on with the mystery homework and Iron Man socks and Father's Day card from P.P. that all point to a child living here. Forgive me if that was not the message suggested."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said dismissively. He'd moved from anxiety to exasperation. Amazing how the human brain could switch so quickly from one emotion to the next. The sooner this conversation was done, the better. "Yes, progress is being made, no matter how shocking it may seem to you that for once I am not wrapped up in myself."

Steve sighed. "Tony, no one said -"

Tony held up a hand to silence him. "It's fine. We're nearing the end of creating a revised version of the Accords, and although it will have to go through several _more_ revisions, it's a… Less controlling document. I think you'll find it much improved."

"You've only just now finished your first draft?!" Wanda snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's been a year since we've been Rogue, Stark, and all you have managed to complete was _one_ draft?!"

"You're not exactly in a place to complain, Ms. Maximoff," Rhodey countered. "If I had any say in the matter, I wouldn't have let Tony _touch_ the Accords until _after_ his wedding."

"There were a few things that had to be dealt with beforehand," Tony explained. "Expenses to cover. The airport, for one. People were very unhappy to find out that their cars had been destroyed. Property damage is intense." He shrugged. "Of course, I _could_ have not bothered with that at all and jumped straight into working on the Accords."

"Why didn't you do that, then?" Wanda demanded. "I don't understand."

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This conversation could go south very quickly if he wasn't careful. "I didn't want to load you all with debt while you were on the run. I know none of you can pull five million out of your pockets, even if you all pooled your spare change together."

"We appreciate that," Natasha said. "Seriously. We know you're doing everything you can."

"'Everything he can'?!" Wanda repeated incredulously. "How the _hell_ is he doing everything he can if we're still on the run from laws we didn't agree to?!"

"Whether you like it or not we broke the law," Natasha snapped. "Stop deluding yourself that we were the heroes and everything will magically resolve itself with a snap of Tony's fingers. The law is imperfect, sure. No one's disagreeing there. But laws are made to help _fix_ those kinds of laws. So for once in your life, Wanda, shut the hell up."

Wanda was seething, but Tony was pleased to note - more pleased than he'd care to admit - that her lips were sealed.

"I have a question for you, Captain," Rhodey said after a pause. "What's happened to, ah… Your friend. Barnes."

For the first time that day, Steve looked truly… Uncomfortable. At the mention of the Winter Soldier, Tony felt a shudder run down his spine. He'd done further research on the man since… Siberia. Had he come to terms with what had happened? Maybe. Had he forgiven Steve for hiding it from him?

Maybe not.

"He's receiving treatment," Steve finally said. "From a friend. More yours than mine. At a secure location. Even I'm not entirely sure where it is. I was told to keep an ear out, that I'd receive a message whenever he was classified to have… Recovered. So far, though, I've heard nothing."

"Because it takes more than a year to undo decades of brainwashing," Sam muttered.

Tony's shoulders stiffened as Sam leveled his gaze at him. "I understand. I hope he recovers."

Wanda snorted. "Like hell you do. You only care about yourself, Stark." She glared at him. "You like to take credit for good things and then hold others accountable for anything bad that happens. You are the most selfish man to walk this planet. You've killed _hundreds_ in cold blood, including my mother and my father. You talk about responsibility but you've had everything handed to you on a silver platter from the moment you were born. I cannot forgive you for what you've done to me and to dozens of other innocent people. And I know you will never forgive yourself, either. Will you, Mr. Stark?"

Tony felt the blood drain from his face at her words, and he instinctively took a step away. She was right. He could never repent, never compensate, never be forgiven, _everything_ , all the shit he'd gone through - he deserved a life sentence in hell. Nothing could ever be enough.

It would never make up for it.

For anything.

xXxXxXx

Peter was eavesdropping.

Was it wrong? Maybe. Should he have been resting? Probably. Did he care? Absolutely not.

He couldn't _believe_ they were talking to Mr. Stark like _he_ was the bad guy. Sure, his mentor wasn't perfect, but they knew _nothing_ about him. That was how it felt, at least. And yeah, there were things Peter didn't know about the billionaire. He didn't understand everything about the fight between Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers. He didn't understand Scarlet Witch's deep-rooted hatred, either. But he did know that no one in that room was innocent of a crime. They were each as hypocritical as the next.

Peter desperately wanted to intervene. However, the one and only instruction Mr. Stark had given him was to stay out of sight. But he couldn't just stand there and listen to that bullshit.

This was quite the conundrum.

Peter twisted a knob on his watch, which he'd put on the moment they'd returned to the tower. "Karen," he hissed, "I need your help. I have poor decision-making skills and you're way smarter than me."

"What is the problem, Peter?" Karen asked. "Your tone of voice suggests dire circumstances. Why are you not in your suit?"

"The Scarlet Witch lady is being really rude to Mr. Stark about the Accords and about… His past, I guess," Peter explained. "Do I intervene, or wait it out?"

He had a feeling Karen would have frowned if it was possible. "If you intervened, what would you do?"

Peter shrugged, then remembered the AI couldn't see him. "I don't know. I just want them to stop accusing him of things that aren't his fault. Mr. Stark has flaws but apparently that's the only thing they seen in him. I know Mr. Stark also has PTSD and trauma even though he doesn't talk about it much, and I'm worried he might have a panic attack if they accidentally go too far." He recognized certain things. Reactions. Tones of voice. He knew because he saw those same signs in himself. Being a superhero wasn't all fun and games, like he'd once thought it was.

"Hmm," Karen mused. "I understand, Peter. Perhaps you could fake an illness? Or pretend your shoulder is acting up?"

"Those aren't bad ideas," Peter said after a moment of thought. "I didn't know you could be so devious, Karen."

"I take that as a compliment."

"That was definitely the intention." He paused, then laughed quietly. "I guess I should have seen it coming. Mr. Stark _was_ the one who programmed you, after all." He snapped his fingers as a brilliant idea occurred. "Never mind, Karen. I know _exactly_ what I'm going to do."

"And what might your plan be, Peter?"

Peter grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guess you'll have to wait and see."

xXxXxXx

Tony hadn't meant for the discussion to turn out like this. It was _supposed_ to be peaceful. Short. Simple. Instead, sparks had flown and ignited the tension that had been long-broiling into a bonfire. Only it wasn't as pleasant as a bonfire. There were no marshmallows to roast, only bombs waiting to explode.

Natasha was lecturing Wanda while Rhodey and Steve were arguing about something, Sam popping in every now and then, and Tony - well, he was frozen to the floor. He wanted nothing more than to slowly back out of the room and escape to his lab. Probably snag Peter on the way down. Apparently the kid was the only decent company in the tower.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony stiffened. Well, to speak of the devil - _hell_ no. That had better not be who he thought it was. He'd _specifically_ instructed Peter to remain in his room, to _not_ get involved in the shit that was the Accords and the Rogue Avengers, _why_ did no one listen to him in his own house?

He turned around, ready to shoo the kid away before anyone could catch sight of him, but did a double take as he noticed the way Peter's right hand was curled around his ear.

Shit.

Sensory overload.

Tony glanced back at Rhodey and the others. They all seemed perfectly content to keep arguing, so he quickly stepped aside and made his way over to where Peter was leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Peter began, voice wobbling, "and I know you said to stay in my room, but I could hear so much _shouting_ and it just got louder and louder and I couldn't find my headphones and -"

"Hey, hey," Tony interrupted, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "It's fine, Pete. Besides, did I not tell you to come to me whenever you had issues with your senses? There's no reason to have a repeat of that Decathlon party."

"I know what you _said_ , but -"

"No 'buts,' kid. I will have FRIDAY pull up the footage if I must." Tony hesitated. "Okay. You're in overload. What do you need me to do?"

"Make it quiet," Peter mumbled, and Tony tensed as the kid buried his head in his chest, nearly hitting himself in the forehead with the arc reactor.

God, he couldn't handle this. Responsibility? Who was that? Tony Stark had never met them. He glanced down, and was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to run his hand through Peter's curls. Had he ever noticed that the kid _had_ curls?

Tony suddenly noticed that the room had fallen silent. He turned to see several very shocked expressions; four jaws had dropped to the floor. Then there was Rhodey, who looked a mix of exasperated and amused.

"Um, who is that?!" Sam finally demanded. "And don't pull any bullshit with me, Tony, because he _looks_ way too similar to you to _not_ be your kid."

"Matching red hair, huh?" Natasha mused. She offered Tony a soft smile. "It's a good look. On both of you."

Tony had a feeling that, this time, the Russian was not truly talking about the hair. "This is Peter," he said finally, squeezing the kid's shoulder. Peter lifted his head and gave the group a half-hearted wave. "He's my personal intern at SI. His guardian is on a trip right now, however, and ultimately decided to ask me if Peter could stay here for the month." He shrugged. "He's a smart kid, so how could I say no?" Tony's heart was racing. One wrong word, one slip-up could accidentally reveal Peter's identity. He couldn't afford that.

Peter's eyes narrowed as he examined the group. "Are you the Avengers?" he finally said.

Tony knew very well that Peter had no reason to be asking that question. The kid had been an Avengers fanatic since he was little. What was he planning?

"Yes," Steve finally said. "Although we're being forced to stay out of the public eye for now."

Peter nodded sagely. "Right. I wouldn't go out in public if I was that hated, either."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me? _Hated_? What are you talking about, child?"

Peter frowned. "I mean, I thought you'd know already." He shrugged. "After the whole deal with the Accords, most people were _very_ unhappy with the actions of 'Team Cap,' quote unquote." He laughed. "I guess people don't like feeling unsafe around their protectors, you know?"

"Why wouldn't they feel safe?" Wanda demanded. "The Accords were what was preventing us from protecting them."

"Eh. I guess." Peter shrugged a second time. "You guys are all kind of… Hypocritical, you know? People were - _are_ \- afraid."

"How so?" Natasha asked. Tony noted that the Russian sounded genuinely curious; not offended.

"Well, Mr. Captain America was all like 'the safest hands are our own' and stuff _but_ he injured dozens of law enforcement officials in order to save a guy who at the time was thought to be a mass murderer and it's not like Mr. Captain America could have known otherwise, so that does tend to put people on edge," Peter explained, spitting out words rapidfire. "And Ms. Scarlet Witch _did_ voluntarily work for Nazis, plus she's least experienced when it comes to controlling her powers, and also some reporters published the story on how she was partially responsible for Ultron, which - fun fact - boosted Mr. Stark's popularity."

Tony blinked in surprise. "It did what now?"

Peter snickered. "Surprised, old man?" He rolled his eyes. "Basically, people understood why you created Ultron. People always sympathize with fear, and they realized that you meant well. But they did _not_ like that Ms. Scarlet Witch only to decided to stop Ultron when she realized it was going to kill _her_ , too."

Tony noticed the guilty expression painting Steve's face out of the corner of his eye. Wanda was white as a sheet. Perhaps it was cruel of him, but he couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction.

"Most people are Team Iron Man," Peter continued. "Although not everyone _likes_ Mr. Stark, they trust him because he's willing to work within the law for their benefit. A lot of people also recognized some of the unfairness in the Accords, so there's also been a lot of protests to get the government to make the restrictions more lax. If memory serves, the Accords have been altered to primarily be about international conflicts. Superheroes have much freer range on their 'home turf.'"

Tony frowned. He didn't remember telling the kid that. "And how would you know that, exactly?"

Peter flushed, and laughed nervously. "FRIDAY and I talk whenever I can't sleep. I probably know some stuff I shouldn't."

Tony was tempted to ask why the kid couldn't sleep, but decided that would be a better question posed _not_ in front of a crowd. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You're gonna get me arrested, Pete." He rolled his eyes, turning back to face the Rogue Avengers. "Since the kid _started_ talking about revisions, I'll go ahead and finish. Yes, we've made it so most fine print is regarding international conflict, which was technically the initial intent of the Accords, anyway. Now it's just clearer."

"The Accords have also been made more forgiving," Rhodey added, moving over to beside Tony. "They're more acknowledging of human error."

"I'm working on acquiring pardons for you lot," Tony continued, "but I can't say how soon. _That_ all depends on how politicians feel, which changes from second to second. The moment I'm able to do it, I promise I'll let you know." He glanced at his watch. "I'll take three questions, but then I'm done."

Sam's hand immediately shot in the air. "So this little dude is _not_ your kid?"

Rhodey snickered, and Tony rolled his eyes. "Not biologically, no. Sorry to crush your dreams."

"But we do have matching shirts!" Peter added, beaming as he unzipped his jacket to reveal the picture of Luke Skywalker. "Mr. Stark is the best."

Tony noted that Peter had likely put on the jacket to hide the bandages on his shoulder. Smart kid. "I wouldn't say _best_ , but…" He shrugged. "Eh. I'll take the compliment. Next question."

"How did you meet Peter?" Natasha asked. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, and Tony had a hunch that the Russian had connected a few dots.

"Well, he goes to Midtown for school, right?" Tony began. He was about to weave a beautiful web of lies. "They'd been pestering me for ages about giving a speech or whatever. Pepper finally forced me to go, and I ended up doing my thing at their science fair. I stuck around afterwards for a bit. Lo and behold, I ended up checking out a few projects. Peter here had designed an efficient and affordable method for water filtration." He ruffled the kid's hair. "I was impressed, offered him a position downstairs, blah blah blah, and he basically worked his way up. He's probably as smart as I am."

Peter blushed. "I'm not _that_ smart, Mr. Stark."

Tony shrugged. "Well, you're humbler than I am, that's for sure. Last question." There was a long pause. "No questions?"

Steve sighed. "Are you still angry at us, Tony?"

Tony stiffened. He didn't quite know how to answer that. Then Peter leaned his head against him a second time, and he felt himself relax. "Not angry," he finally replied. "I was never angry." He'd been afraid. And, though he didn't want to admit it, maybe he still was. "And that concludes my time," he continued, clapping his hands together. "Further questions should be directed to my email. Since I like all of you, I just might answer."

"We'd like you guys to be out of this tower by noon," Rhodey added. "If you stay any longer Ross will catch on and be up our asses about it."

"Watch your language," Tony said instinctively. "There's a minor present."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm not two years old, Mr. Stark."

"You're the equivalent of seven two-year-olds," Tony countered.

"I'm _fifteen_."

"Okay, seven two-year-olds and a one-year-old." Tony snorted. "God, that's even worse. _Anyways_." He grabbed Peter's shoulders. "Let's go. You're done in here." He steered him out of the main room and down the hall. "Lab or your bedroom?"

"Lab, of course," Peter answered instantly.

A few turns and a set of stairs later, they entered the lab.

"First things first," Tony began, sitting Peter down on a stool. "What triggered your sensory overload? The walls must have muffled the shouting to an extent, so something else had to be involved."

Peter flushed a bright red. "Oh. I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Your health and safety is my priority. If it wasn't, your aunt would kill me."

"Well…" Peter laughed nervously. "I was sort of kind of _faking_ it as an excuse to get in the room with you. But before you get mad, I just didn't want to you have to be alone! Like, Colonel Rhodes was with you and stuff, but they were all acting kinda asshole-ish, so…" He shrugged. "They were wrong. Someone just needed to remind them of it."

Tony shook his head in disbelief. The amount of faith Peter had in him never ceased to be amazing. The kid deserved the world and more, and in all honesty, Tony was determined to give it to him. "Only you, Spiderling. Only you." He rolled his eyes. "Well, with that out of the way, why did you want to come to the lab?"

"To fix my webshooter, duh." Peter beamed at him. "The sooner it's fixed, the sooner I can go back to being Spider-Man."

"You mean, once your shoulder heals," Tony corrected. "And once I un-ground you."

Peter's jaw dropped. "What?!" he squawked. "I was being _helpful_! Why am I grounded?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "You're dramatic enough to get the lead in your school play."

"Mr. Stark. Seriously."

Tony chuckled. "Fine. I won't ground you. But don't tell your aunt that I let you break the rules and get away with it."

Peter snickered. "Okay. It's a deal."

Tony sighed, but he was smiling. He pulled Peter into a sideways hug. "You're gonna be the death of me, kid. But you know what?" He absentmindedly ran his hand through Peter's hair. "I don't think I mind."

xXxXxXx

"Okay, I don't care what Tony says." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Peter is _definitely_ his kid, biological or not."

Natasha laughed. "For the first time in history, I agree with Sam."

Rhodey resisted the urge to pipe in with his own comment. They really didn't know how right they were.

"Tony's changed," Steve mused. "He was different. Especially when Peter was around."

"That's what happens when you clear negativity from your life," Rhodey replied. Hmm. That was harsher than he'd meant it to be. "Or rather, when you allow yourself to welcome positivity. Think about it. He has an upcoming wedding, a pseudo-child according to all of you, and though you might disagree with _this_ , but I think he'll be relieved to acquire your pardons and be finished with the Accords."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "I guess you're right."

"Let's just leave," Wanda muttered. "Every second we spend in this building makes me want to gag."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "So melodramatic."

Wanda chuckled, smiling for what may have been the first time that day. "Eh. Maybe a little bit."

"FRIDAY will show you out," Rhodey said, adjusting the top of his right leg brace. "I promise. We're trying our best to get pardons out as fast as we can." He smiled at them. "And trust us, you'll know when we do."

Natasha returned his smile. "Thanks for everything, Rhodey. And thank Tony for us, too."

Rhodey nodded. "Will do, Nat." He saluted them before retreating to the back of Stark Tower. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Peter and Tony had run off to.

Sure enough, he heard laughter even before he'd gotten down to the lab. Watching from outside, he could see the two happily tinkering away, Tony jokingly punching Peter in the shoulder and Peter attempting to dodge it and nearly falling off his stool.

Rhodey decided not to interrupt them.

A father should be able to spend quality time with his son, after all.

xXxXxXx

 **I can't promise future oneshots will be this long, but who knows, I guess? I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Prompt requests are on hold until I catch up; feel free to leave me a prompt, but I probably won't get to it for a while (unless it's combined with others). Again, follow me on Tumblr** starkravinghazelnoots **and** thinkingisadangerouspastime **if you want. Thank you for reading!**


	7. There's a Fine, Fine Line

**Hey guys! It's been a while, hasn't it? The last Marvel fic I posted was almost exactly a year ago (my Endgame fix-it, lol). I've missed you guys! I hope you're all doing well during this stressful time of corona-craziness. You better all be washing your hands.**

 **Now, I'm not going to say this fic marks my permanent return to Marvel. The point of this fic collection is to get me back into the flow of writing whenever my writer's block acts up, which is why it's updated sporadically and I might write based on request(s) I've been sent or I might not. It all depends on what I need to get un-stuck with writing.**

 **(That said, I still adore Iron Dad and Spider Son, and you can pry their father-son relationship from my cold, dead hands.)**

 **This story started as a field trip request. Then I re-watched** ** _Spider-Man: Far From Home_** **with my sister and it became a full-blown Flash Thompson introspection. (What can I say? I'm a sucker for a kid with neglectful parents, it seems.) Don't worry, though - Tony and Peter's relationship is integral to this story, which is why I'm including it as a part of this collection (though I might post it separately, too. we'll see). There is definitely gratuitous use of my personal headcanons about Flash and his family in this fic, so brace yourselves for that. All in all, I'm pretty proud of this. My writing style has definitely evolved over the past year(s) and I think that evolution better reflects the story I wanted to tell here. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Prompt (from Jakob Silverheart on FFN):** _Maybe you can take the "Peter's class goes on a field trip to SI and Tony catches Flash in the act of deprecating Peter, so he steps in" prompt, and put your own special twist on it eventually._

 **Prompt (from Guest on FFN):** _can you please do a one shot about peters school trip to stark industry's and tony embarrassing him. Or really anything to do with flash finding out about Peter and tony like actually knowing each other. also I love ned so add him too_

 **WARNING:** There is increased use of expletives in this fic as well as a brief description of a panic attack. There is also one use of the r-slur; please read with caution if you are sensitive to such.

xXxXxXx

Flash Thompson hated Peter Parker. He knew it, Parker knew it, all of Midtown High knew it. Worse, Flash also knew that his hatred of Parker was completely unjustified. The kid was so kind and forgiving it was _insufferable_. He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand _him_.

It pissed him off to no end that Parker had everything. Sure, Parker's life wasn't perfect - Flash wasn't an idiot, he knew Parker's aunt had been having financial troubles for a long time - but that didn't change the fact that Parker still had _everything_ and somehow he managed to take it all for granted.

Flash would have given anything to be Peter Parker.

Anything.

xXxXxXx

Everyone liked Parker. It was hard not to. Sure, he could be flighty and he had a bad habit of disappearing at the most inconvenient of times, but his apologies were so soft and so sincere that people couldn't help but forgive him.

It was the most irritating thing in the world.

"Peter, practice started an hour ago!" Liz said, exasperation evident in her voice as she confronted Peter when he entered the library. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd better have a real reason to be late this time."

"I know, I know, and I'm so sorry," Peter apologized, his hair noticeably messier than usual and a small cut blooming underneath his right eye. "There was an emergency with the Stark internship. I know that's hardly an excuse, but I promise to try harder for next time."

Liz looked like she wanted to argue, but as she stared at Peter, her gaze softened, and her arms dropped to her sides. "Oh, alright. I know you will." She gestured to the table where all of the Decathlon team were already sitting. "Get over there before I can be mad at you again."

Flash gaped as he watched Peter practically run over to their table, slipping into the empty seat between Ned and MJ. "Are you kidding me?" he said incredulously, slamming his palms to the table. "Parker's later, like, every other day, but suffers no consequences for it? I was late _once_ and Mr. Harrington suspended me for a week!"

Liz sighed. "First of all, Flash, I am not Mr. Harrington. I do not approve of suspension as a punishment for a voluntary and already stressful after-school activity. Second -"

"Second, if you actually answered a question correctly more than once a year, maybe you'd be considered a genuine asset to the team," MJ drawled, smirking at him. "But you don't and you aren't. We didn't miss you at all during that one-week suspension. In fact, one week really wasn't long enough. I need at least a month to properly purge your presence from my mind."

Muffled laughter filled the room, and Flash blushed hotly at her comment. It wasn't _his_ fault he was first alternate and was therefore expected to know everything about every subject while everyone else got to specialize in an area of study. "Shut up, Jones," he snapped, aware he was playing with fire but not caring. "At least I haven't missed practice because of period cramps."

If looks could kill, MJ's icy glare was like staring down the barrels of a dozen firing squads. "Try me, Thompson," she snarled, starting to rise from her seat. "I could snap your neck without breaking a sweat."

He'd overstepped, he always overstepped, but he wasn't going to back down now. "Like hell you could," he sneered. "Why don't we -"

"Enough!" Liz shouted. "This is supposed to be a team! _We_ are supposed to be a team. I expect you to keep personal issues outside of this setting. Understand?" Upon not receiving an answer, she crossed her arms and glared at the two of them, her brown eyes dark with venom. "I _said_ , do you understand?"

There was a pause.

"Yes," they both grumbled, neither making eye contact with her or each other.

"Good. Now please sit down so we can continue this practice without turning my hair completely gray."

Both did as instructed, and practice soon resumed, though the tension in the room far from dissipated. Instead, it continued to fester, and even though Flash knew it was Jones he should have been pissed at, he found himself getting increasingly angrier at Parker.

By the end of practice, Flash hadn't answered a single question. They were focusing on science that day. He knew he wasn't needed.

Perfect Peter Parker dominated. And it just wasn't fair.

xXxXxXx

It wasn't enough for everyone to like Parker. No, he also had to have an impenetrable circle of close friends - something Flash had never been able to attain. People only hung out with him because he was a Thompson. Because they liked his money, or because they knew his parents could buy out their family businesses if they so much as stepped wrong around him.

Parker's friends? They'd probably give up their damn lives for each other.

"Ouch!"

"Shh! Shut up, Peter! You're going to get us caught."

"You worry too much, MJ. There's - ow - there's no one in the locker rooms this late after school. Besides, it's not like we're doing anything ba - oh my God that stings! Jesus, MJ!"

Flash felt his pulse quicken. He was crouched down outside the door leading into the locker room. Was it creepy to be eavesdropping like this? Probably. But he didn't care. He couldn't believe Peter "Goody Two Shoes" Parker was breaking school rules! Oh _man_ , it was his lucky day.

Well, he was technically breaking school rules, too, but it wasn't his fault that his dad had forgotten to pick him up after soccer practice. It happened every time. The principal had long since gotten used to his extended presence on Fridays.

"Sorry. Gotta prevent this cut from getting infected."

"Why does rubbing alcohol hurt so much if it's - ouch, damn! - supposed to be healing me?"

"I am not going to answer that, Mr. 'I'm Tony Stark's favorite intern', because you already know why."

Flash could have sworn he heard Parker mutter something about 'super-healing' and not needing to be babied over such a small scratch, but he wasn't sure.

"How did you get that cut, anyways?" Huh. A new voice. Probably Leeds. "Was it from… er, from your internship?"

"No, it wasn't that." Flash heard Peter sigh. "It's way more embarrassing."

Oh, this was freaking fantastic! Rule-breaking _and_ an embarrassing story? Flash had hit the jackpot on dirt for Parker.

"Embarrassing is usually code for 'I almost died but I don't want to talk about it and I haven't told May or Mr. Stark yet'."

"MJ's right. Is there something… Er, I don't know. Something you need to talk to us about?"

"I really just want to know - _ow_ \- why both of you sound like my therapist."

"He's serious, loser. And…" There was a long pause. "We won't tell May if you don't want us to. This can stay between us."

The concern in their voice clawed at the inside of Flash's throat, and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Why was he getting so worked up over this? Over some stupid conversation he couldn't even see? The hell was wrong with him?

"Aw, you guys are so - ouch! Damn, MJ, are you trying to kill every bacterium in this cut?"

"Yes."

"Ugh, whatever. I was _trying_ to say that you guys are the best and I love you so much for being so considerate, but nah, it's honestly nothing serious. I was trying to rescue a stray cat from a tree, but she was not very happy when I failed two times in a row and swiped at my face to prove she meant business. No big deal."

Flash left the room when he started to hear laughter, unable to listen any longer. White hot frustration burned in his stomach, but he pushed aside the nausea and continued down the school's main hallway towards the front doors. What did he care about those losers, anyway? He could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone to worry about him, or to be concerned for him.

And that was the only reason why no one did.

xXxXxXx

Parker's parents were dead. His uncle had been murdered before his eyes.

Flash didn't envy him for that.

What was infuriating was how even after enduring so much pain, so much loss, Parker still managed to be insufferably cheerful, even when his life was clearly overwhelming him. It was obvious as to why Parker could be so cheery, of course. At least in Flash's opinion. Yes, Parker had lost his parents and his uncle, but all that had done was make what was left of his support system even stronger.

Flash jumped when there was a loud crash behind him in chemistry, turning around to see that Parker had fallen to the floor, his eyes clenched shut and his hands clamped over his ears. "What the fu -"

"He's having a nightmare," Ned realized aloud, he and MJ jumping into action simultaneously. "Panic attack."

"Call May Parker," MJ instructed as she helped Ned carefully sit Peter up, resting his semi-conscious body against the both of them. "If she doesn't pick up, try Tony Stark or Happy Hogan. They'll know how to help."

Their teacher, who'd been frozen in panic, nodded and grabbed her phone out of her purse. Flash started to wonder why she had Parker's aunt's number, but was then distracted by Parker starting to breathe in heavy gasps as his eyes flew open.

"I don't - can't feel - crushing me!"

"Shh," MJ said soothingly, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're at school. Ned and I are both with you. You can breathe, okay?"

Peter shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. "No, no, I can't, it's crushing me -"

"Nothing is crushing you, Peter," Ned replied, shifting his friend to help him sit more upright. "It's okay. We're here."

Peter's gasping gradually faded into more even breaths, if still ragged. The panic in his eyes disappeared soon after, replaced by a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

"Thank you. He'll be waiting in the office for you." Their teacher hung up, placing her phone on her desk. "Okay, Peter. Your aunt is on her way to the school now. She said it shouldn't take longer than ten minutes. Ned, Michelle - will you please take him to the nurse?"

"Oh, no," Peter started to protest, his face growing red, "that's really not necessary. They don't need to -"

"We will," Ned and MJ interrupted simultaneously. They helped Peter to his feet, ignoring his insistence that he was fine, really, he just needed a moment to catch his breath, and proceeded to practically drag him out of the classroom.

"That's what you get for sleeping in class, loser!" Flash called after them, unsure of what had compelled him to speak but knowing that he couldn't stand the anxiety and tension radiating from his classmates any longer.

His teacher simply sighed in disappointment. 'Disappointment'. A tone he found all too familiar. "That was uncalled for, Mr. Thompson."

'Mr. Thompson'. Not Flash. Not even Eugene. 'Mr. Thompson'.

She was right. He'd had no reason to be so obnoxious. But he didn't want to admit that to her, and instead he found himself sinking down further into his seat.

Class continued when Ned and MJ returned. About a half hour later, the water Flash had drunk after PE caught up to him, and he raised his hand for the bathroom. His teacher sighed but reluctantly agreed, telling him to grab the hall pass and to not take too long.

On his way to the boy's restroom, he passed by the nurse's office. The door was cracked open and he noticed Parker standing inside. Despite how every bone in his body screamed at him to keep walking, he paused just past it and hid as much as he could in the shadows, listening to the conversation inside.

"May, it was - Jesus Christ, it was so embarrassing. Everyone was staring at me and they all looked genuinely terrified and I just… God, I know they're going to treat me differently now."

So Parker's aunt had arrived.

"I know, Peter. I'm sorry this happened to you, honey. But I thought your nightmares were getting better? If you've been holding out on me, we are going to have a serious discussion about the importance of honesty and clear communication."

"It _was_ getting better, May, I swear. At least, I thought it was. I hadn't had a severe nightmare, much less a full blown panic attack like that in - in over a month!" A pause. Then a sigh. "Until now, I guess."

"Well, Dr. Katherine did say that periodic attacks wouldn't be unusual for up to a year or two later, and less than annually after that."

"I know, May, but I can't stand - ugh, I _hate_ it! I hate that it's something out of my control! And I know _why_ I can't talk about it to anyone, I really do, but I hate feeling like I'm one person trying to live two lives. It sucks, May."

"Oh, Peter." She sounded on the verge of tears. "I know it hurts. And I know this isn't what you need to hear, probably, but there - there are always things that are out of our control. And - and sometimes, our own minds fall into that category."

"I feel… I just feel so _stuck_. At least my ADHD is something other kids can relate to. That Annabeth kid, in my architecture elective - she gets it. And she's helped me a lot with staying focused during notes and stuff. But everything else? I'm the lame kid - no, the _only_ kid with PTSD who seemed fine yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and, and I'm not even allowed to _talk_ about why or what's going on to my friends! Ned and MJ know a little, but I can't tell them everything. Especially not MJ. She'd figure me out in less than a second. It's like I have a gag in my mouth that I can only take out when I'm swinging…" His voice dropped to a mumble, and Flash couldn't make out the end of his sentence. 'Swinging'? Must have been a metaphor or something.

"Peter…" His aunt sounded so tired, but… not for herself. "I'm sorry, honey. I hate that there's so little I can do for you right now. But just - just know you can _always_ talk to me. About anything. I won't pretend to - to fully understand everything you've been through, but I will listen and I will make you hot chocolate and we will binge Star Wars. We will do whatever you need at that moment, okay?"

Flash found himself shoving off the wall and walking away before Parker responded. Surprisingly - or maybe not - he felt guilty about listening in on their conversation. He tried to push their words out of his mind, but it was impossible. The frustration in Parker's voice. The love and the pain in his aunt's. It played in his head on loop, like a broken record meant to keep him entertained in his own personal hell.

That stupid loop made studying that night even harder than usual. The letters were scrambled on the page, the tiny font of his textbook causing him the usual headache, and the conversation between Parker and his aunt still ringing in his ears only compounded his frustration.

Studying was stupid, anyways. He maintained a B average no matter how much he read or didn't read, so what did it matter? It wasn't like -

"Eugene?"

Flash, startled by the sudden voice that wasn't the one in his head, dropped his textbook on his desk and turned around to see his mother standing in the doorway of his room. "Ma'am?" he hastily managed to say. "Did you - did you need something?"

"Oh, I was just letting you know that I'm going out tonight." She crossed over to his desk, frowning as she noted that his books were all on the same pages as when she'd briefly entered his room earlier. "I see you've made little progress." She sighed. "Disappointing but unsurprising, I suppose. Keep studying until I get back tonight." Which probably would be after midnight. Fantastic. Way to screw over his already fucked sleep schedule. "I'd really like to see your grades go up, Eugene. You're smart, sweetie! And you shouldn't be afraid to show it. You get your brains from me, after all."

Flash felt his face redden. His grades weren't _bad_. At a hyper-competitive school like Midtown where kids took 7 AP classes a year to get a 5.0 GPA, a 3.5 was pretty darn good. Hell, it was perfectly average. And when it came to grades, average was fine with him. "Yeah," he agreed, unconvincingly.

His mother sighed again, rolling her eyes and shouldering her white Gucci purse, which was in Flash's opinion one of the ugliest bags she owned. "Okay, Eugene. Out with it."

"What?"

"Darling, you are terribly easy to read. You get that from your father. Just say whatever it is you think needs to be said."

Flash hesitated. He was probably going to regret this. "It's just… Difficult to read sometimes, Mother," he began, slowly gesturing to his textbook. Okay, he should stop there. "And sometimes I don't finish my tests because it takes me longer to go through each problem." Shit, why had he kept talking?! "Before I know it, time's up." This was not going to end well for him.

There was a long pause. Too long. Flash was afraid to look at his mother. Afraid to see the anger that would no doubt be flickering in her eyes. He willed himself to glance over, then immediately regretted that decision, wincing as she clenched her fists so hard her fake nails were probably going to leave marks in her palms.

"'It'?" His mother said slowly, her tone icier than anything Jones had ever conjured up. "If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, Eugene Thompson. No son of _mine_ is going to have some - some pretend mental disorder! You are _not_ a retard! It is the _one_ thing your idiot father and I can agree on."

God, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he think this time would be any different -

"Eugene, are you even listening to me?!"

Flash's head snapped up at his mother's words, his body functioning on autopilot. "Yes ma'am."

"That's what I thought. Now listen to me. _Closely_." She leaned towards him, and he could already smell wine on her breath. "You will sit here while I am gone. You will study the next five chapters. And you will get an A on your next test." She paused. "No, an A _plus_. Thompson's don't settle. Do you understand me?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Good." She pulled away, smoothing down the front of her satin dress. "I don't know what the hell that doctor was going on about your freshman year. 'Dyslexia'. Please."

Dyslexia.

He couldn't picture the spelling in his mind.

"What _you_ have is a stubbornness issue. If you would just study more often and not complain about it, you'd be fine!"

Flash didn't say anything. He waited for his mother to finish her rant about how mental illnesses were created by dropouts as an excuse for their inability to complete high school.

Somehow he managed not to flinch as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, forcing himself to wave goodbye to her as she left his room. She didn't remember to shut the door.

Maybe he'd been lying to himself. Maybe he did envy Parker's familial… misfortune.

Maybe he did wish his parents were dead.

xXxXxXx

The thing Flash hated the most about Parker, or at least the thing he _thought_ he hated the most about Parker, was obviously that stupid Stark internship. Flash's parents wanted him to intern at some big name corporation, too. Not their own, of course - that would be too easy. SI, they were fine with. Or Oscorp. Even Alchemex. But he'd never bothered to apply to them when the chances arose. He just told his parents he'd been rejected. Their expectation of this result stung a little bit, sure, but he preferred their disappointment to the anger that would surely come if he told them that he hated science more than any other subject and would rather die than intern at chemical- and industrial-based corporations.

"Hey, isn't that kid in your class?"

Flash looked up from the essay he was trying and failing to annotate for AP Lang to their giant TV, squinting at the screen to try and figure out who his father was asking about. Damn, where'd he put his glasses? "Uh…"

"Yeah, I think he is!" his father continued, not waiting for confirmation. "Oh, what's his name? I swear I recognize him. Maybe from your science fair?"

Flash spotted his glasses, reaching over the coffee table to grab them. When he saw who his father was referring to, he had to bite back an irritated sigh. "Yeah, he's in my class. His name's Peni - Peter Parker."

His father didn't seem to notice his near slip-up. Flash didn't know whether to be relieved or irritated by the fact that his father wasn't paying any attention to him.

The news station wasn't focused on Parker - thank God, because he might have combusted if that had been the case. Instead, it seemed the camera was just panning over a few SI labs while a reporter discussed the new technology being developed there. Flash knew it was information he could never bring himself to care about.

"Peter Parker," his father mused. He sighed, glancing at his son and shaking his head. "That could have been you, son. If you were just willing to put in a little more effort towards your passions."

Flash felt his jaw clench. Not my passions, he wanted to say. _Yours_.

But he kept his mouth shut, returning his attention to his homework. No good had ever come of arguing with his father.

A few minutes later, something compelled him to glance back up the TV screen. Anger sizzled and popped in his stomach as he watched Tony-freaking-Stark lean over Parker's workstation, laughing at something and ruffling the teen's curly hair.

Screw Parker. He didn't need an internship, anyway.

xXxXxXx

Truth be told, when Flash had first heard word about Parker's internship at SI, he told himself that he didn't believe it. He told himself there was no way it could be true. Why? To make himself feel better, probably. Bullshit, he insisted to everyone who asked and to most people who didn't. No way in hell Penis Parker knows Tony Stark.

At the same time, how could it _not_ have been true? Parker already had everything - why shouldn't he also get an internship with motherfucking Iron Man? The world was practically catering to him at this point.

"Everyone line up in alphabetical order," Mr. Harrington said, clapping his hands together. The man looked more exhausted than usual. "Have your temporary ID card in hand so they can scan you in."

Flash noticed Peter whispering in Ned's ear, and he could have sworn he saw a green ID card in Parker's hand rather than the silver ones they'd been assigned before his view was blocked by someone stepping in line in front of him. Stupid tall people. It wasn't his fault he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. A moment later, when the person in front of him finally shifted to the side, the green card in Parker's hand had been replaced by a silver one, and Flash had to wonder if he'd imagined it.

As they each stepped through the security-scanner thing, a surprisingly kind AI voice said their name aloud. Even though he didn't understand anything about how this sort of tech worked, Flash thought it was pretty cool.

At least until Parker walked through.

"Peter Parker," the AI said. There was a pause. "Hello, Peter. Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark of your presence?"

Peter, surprisingly enough, did not seem terribly embarrassed by the AI addressing him directly. In fact, he almost looked… used to it. "Hey, FRIDAY! I'm on a class field trip today. Mr. Stark actually knew I'd be here. At least I told him I would be. If he forgot, I'm sure Ms. Potts has reminded him by now."

"Yes, I do have a record of that conversation. Enjoy your field trip, Peter."

"Thanks, FRIDAY." With that, he rejoined Ned and MJ, who were waiting for him with the rest of their class that had already been through security.

It took every ounce of self-preservation in Flash's body to prevent himself from lashing out at Parker, the jealousy broiling in his stomach practically daring him to spit fire. He instead settled on a nasty glare, though it seemed only MJ noticed, and she just flipped him off before returning her attention to Ned and Peter.

Flash did his best to tune out most of the field trip. For one, he simply didn't care about the inner workings of SI, but he also couldn't stand watching Parker be fawned over by the rest of the class. At one point, their tour guide had to leave to take care of a lab emergency, and Parker was asked to take over. Not another intern, not another lab tech, but _Parker_. It was like he practically lived at SI or something.

Flash must have been _too_ quiet the whole time, because Mr. Harrington actually pulled him aside to ask if he was feeling okay.

He made sure to call Peter "Penis" a couple of times after that. Just to save face.

(Childish, but oh so gratifying.)

Their class was scheduled for a Q&A with Tony Stark before they ate lunch, but it was delayed because the billionaire had suddenly disappeared. During the period while she would try to track him down, Pepper Potts explained, they would be allowed to wander freely on the current level, so long as they didn't touch anything and returned to the main room within fifteen minutes. Although her tone was warm and she spoke with a smile, the irritation in her eyes betrayed just how pissed she was at her fiancé.

Following this announcement, Flash watched as Pepper Potts proceeded to pull Parker to the side of the room. While he was too far away to even begin to make out exactly what they were saying, he had a gut feeling it involved Tony Stark, based on the way Parker kept laughing and Ms. Potts appeared both exasperated and amused.

Not wanting to watch their interaction any longer, Flash turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He went through some side door and into a long hallway. He was still on the same floor, so it was fine. He didn't really know where he was heading. He just knew he needed to get away. And he'd only changed direction once, so it wasn't like he wouldn't be able to find his way back.

Flash ended up in a room covered wall to wall with paintings. The door had been closed but not shut, and catching a glimpse of the _Mona Lisa_ compelled him to enter. Had it not been for the skylights in the ceiling, the room would have been incredibly creepy.

As he slowly began to walk through, he realized that he recognized most of the artwork. They were famous pieces, sure, but he couldn't help but feel a smidgen of pride at this fact. Dyslexia made words a bitch, but he'd always had less trouble with pictures.

Most of the paintings were copies, of course. Amazingly detailed and intricate and undoubtedly super freaking expensive copies, but copies nonetheless. Not even Tony Stark could own the _actual_ Mona Lisa. And even if he did own it, it'd have to be displayed in a museum or something. If it had been up to Flash, all historically-relevant artwork would be on display. Private collectors were dicks.

Flash stopped in front of a painting by Eugène Delacroix that he remembered talking about in his Western Civilization class. A goddess-like woman stood amongst a group of armed Frenchmen, raising a brightly-colored French flag above her head. Delacroix was his favorite Romantic painter, and it genuinely was just a funny coincidence that they shared a name.

"Ah, _Liberty Leading the People_ ," a voice behind him said, causing Flash to jump at the sudden sound. "Good choice. Beautiful piece."

Flash started to agree with whoever it was, only for his voice to catch in his throat as he turned around and realized _holy shit Tony Stark was talking to him what the fuck_. He finally managed to squeak out a weak, "Uh huh."

"Revolutions always inspire a lot of artwork, don't they? Like the painting of Washington crossing the Delaware," Tony Stark continued, either not noticing or not caring that Flash had frozen in place. "Sucks for the monarchs in power at the time, of course. They get fired, or die. Or both, sometimes." He chuckled. "Marie Antoinette just couldn't make friends, could she?" He shook his head. "Too bad. It would have been interesting to see how Austrian heritage would have affected future French rulers and the balance of power in Europe. Wouldn't it?"

Flash realized the question was directed at him. He opened and closed his mouth twice like a stunned goldfish before he managed to get a hold of himself and respond. "Uh - yes sir. But" - was he really about to correct Tony Stark, Jesus Christ he was losing his mind - "this painting actually isn't from the French Revolution. I mean, not the first one. The one everyone thinks about when they hear 'French Revolution', with Robespierre and the Reign of Terror. Not that one." He swallowed, nerves dancing in his stomach. " _Liberty Leading the People_ was painted to reflect the July Revolution of 1830. Before the watershed year of European revolutions in 1848." Flash held his breath when he finished, waiting to be told off for the correction.

There was a long pause. Flash was ready to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness when the billionaire started laughing. He clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "Nice catch, kid! I didn't know that."

Although he was pretty sure the man was lying, Flash found himself relaxing. If only slightly.

"I take it you like art, then?" Tony continued, adjusting the blue-tinted glasses on his nose. "What do you think of this part of my collection?"

"I _love_ art, sir," Flash answered honestly, a little embarrassed at just how honest he sounded. "Van Gogh and El Greco are my favorites, though it's impossible to deny that Da Vinci, Raphael, and Michelangelo were the greatest artists who ever lived. And - and your collection is amazing!" He was gushing, but he figured it was impossible for him to feel any more embarrassed than he already did. "Most are replicas, but some - I think - are originals, aren't they?" He pointed at a piece whose style looked familiar. "That's an LKH painting, right?" LKH was a local artist. He'd recently followed them on Instagram because their watercolor skills were straight up to _die_ for.

Tony chuckled. "Good eye. Yes, I bought that from LKH this past weekend. I think they were a little surprised when I walked into their store."

Well, duh. Normal people didn't just 'run into' Tony Stark. Of course it had been surprising for them.

Flash was tempted to ask the billionaire why all of these paintings were trapped in this one room, but decided against being so upfront with the question. He settled with a more subtle, "I can't believe you don't have these on display. They're all so amazing."

Tony didn't respond. Maybe Flash had been _too_ subtle with his query.

"You must be part of the field trip from Midtown."

Flash blinked at the sudden topic change. "Um - yes sir."

"What's your name?"

"Eugene. But everyone - well, most people call me Flash."

Tony snapped his fingers, startling him. "Flash Thompson?"

Uh oh. Why did Tony Stark know who he was? "Er, yes sir."

Wait - oh, shit. He had a feeling he knew why. And for once, it had nothing to do with his parents' fame.

It was far, far worse.

"Peter has talked a lot about you."

Fuck. There it was.

Flash winced at the thought of Parker ranting about him to Tony Stark, of all people. Well, karma was a bitch. He supposed he deserved it. "Right. We… have a few classes together." And they hated each other's guts. "And we both do Decathlon." And he made Parker's life a living hell.

"Uh huh."

Flash glanced up at the billionaire, and it was then he understood the real reason Tony Stark was called Iron Man. It wasn't the suit, which wasn't made of iron anyway. It was the iron hardness in his eyes, a steely gaze that somehow knew everything and could see right through anyone.

Flash had never been more terrified.

But the look disappeared as quickly as it came, and before he knew it Tony Stark had grabbed his arm and was grinning again, chattering aimlessly about Peter and his accomplishments as an intern and how pleased he was with the kid's work while he escorted Flash back to the main room on the floor. Flash had never been so willing to listen to someone praise Peter Parker, though his brain clocked out halfway through.

What he did register, however, were the man's parting words.

"You seem like a smart kid, Mr. Thompson," Tony said as he stopped outside the door leading back into the Q&A room. "I get the feeling someone is telling you different - don't listen to them." He smiled at him, but there was no warmth behind it. "And try not to take your frustrations out on other people. Like Peter Parker. Okay?"

Flash winced. It was terrifying that the billionaire could read him so well. "Yes sir. I'll - I'll do better." The words were familiar on his tongue, something he told his parents every day, but the sincerity behind them was… almost foreign.

"Good. And hey -" Tony Stark's chilly smile transformed into a genuine grin. "Keep studying art, kid. You seem to have a knack for it." He winked at him. "Twenty bucks says you have a future in art history, huh? I can practically smell that PhD." With that, he waved goodbye before disappearing down the hall, leaving a stunned Flash Thompson in his wake.

Maybe he _did_ regret not applying for an SI internship.

xXxXxXx

Flash didn't like, much less _want_ , attention from other people. At least, not per se. He put on a show because he was a Thompson, and because his parents liked to see him creating a public image. His Instagram account was more of a Spider-Man fanpage than it was a self-promo account, admittedly, though he did kinda like calling his followers the 'Flash Mob'. He thought it was pretty clever. Plus, more than half of his followers were bots, so it wasn't like he had to try hard to entertain them.

What Flash truly hated was the idea of _fame_. Maybe the only thing his parents had done right was doing their damn best to keep him out of the spotlight, especially when he'd been younger. They still did it now, even after their divorce. Maybe it was because they didn't want to share the limelight with him. But he didn't argue, he didn't question the decision, and in fact he secretly thanked them for it.

He didn't want to be famous, no.

But he couldn't lie that it'd be nice to be _noticed_.

(And not just by Spider-Man. Sexuality was a crisis he was still too terrified to handle.)

Parker was _always_ noticed. His friends, his aunt, Tony Stark, every single teacher at Midtown. Yeah, it was partially because he was super nice and a genius and the school ascribed every science-related victory or award to him alone, but it was also because…

God, Flash didn't even know. Charisma or something.

"Look at this awesome watch Mr. Stark gave me!" he overheard Peter say excitedly as the teen slid into the seat next to Ned in the cafeteria.

Flash was sitting only a few places over, with his usual obnoxious lunch group. He was tempted to get up and leave, but something kept him glued to his seat. Jealousy, probably.

"Oh man, that is _sick_!" Ned replied eagerly. "What does it do?"

'What does it do'? It was a freaking watch. It told time. Flash rolled his eyes. What an idiot.

"It mostly keeps track of information about my vitals. Mr. Stark said something about me having no regard for my own personal safety?" Peter shook his head, shrugging. "Anyways. The coolest part is that I can use it to talk to Karen!"

Ned's eyes widened. "No way! Like outside of your sui -" He was interrupted by a hacking cough from Peter, and he looked at his friend with concern.

Maybe he imagined it, but Flash could have sworn he saw Parker glare at Leeds. It was hard to tell, though, considering he was watching them out of the corner of his eye.

"Right, sorry," Ned apologized. "So, you can talk to Karen outside of your… internship?"

"Yep! Or, I'll be able to soon. Mr. Stark said there's a few things he needs to tweak before he can activate her in full. I'll introduce you to her as soon as I can, though!"

Who the hell was Karen, anyways, Flash found himself wondering. Not that it really mattered - the lunch bell rang a few minutes later to dismiss students back to class, and Parker and Leeds's conversation had long since shifted to the upcoming Decathlon tournament.

But as Flash walked by to throw away his plate, he couldn't help but… catch one final snippet.

"Do you know why Mr. Stark made you the watch?" Ned asked curiously.

Peter shrugged. "No idea. My birthday isn't for ages and Christmas is still like two months away." He smiled, running his thumb over the watch. "He tries to hide it, but Mr. Stark is always doing nice things for people. Getting them gifts and stuff. He knows the birthday of every single one of his employees! Can you believe it? It's absolutely insane considering that there's like - like a _thousand_ people who work for him directly."

"Whoa. That is so cool of him."

Flash didn't want to listen anymore. He kept on walking, not stopping until he'd arrived back in class.

That night, he knocked on the door to his mother's bedroom. "Mother?" he called. "Can I come in?"

There was a sigh from the inside. "If you must. And it's 'may' you come in, Eugene. Not 'can'."

Flash ignored the snideness of her tone and entered the room.

"What do you need from me? You know I have that stupid Primrose mixer to attend tonight," she said impatiently as she rummaged through one of her four open jewlery boxes. "Honest to God, where did I put those emerald studs? They're the only set that matches this dress."

"I was wondering if I could throw a party Friday night," he said, trying to keep his tone light and amiable. "Just some kids from Midtown." A lie. Kids from all over the city always showed up. "No alcohol." A half-truth. He wouldn't be providing any, but there were always people who brought some. "And no drugs." _That_ he meant. People knew better than to bring that kind of garbage to a Flash Thompson party.

His mother didn't answer right away, and he wondered if she'd forgotten he was there. Wouldn't have been the first time.

Finally, she put her jewelry box down on her vanity table and turned to face him, a small frown creasing her lips. "Shouldn't you be asking your father this? He has weekend custody."

He'd expected her to say that. "No, the two of you are attending a charity gala Friday night, remember? In Albany. You didn't want to drive home that late, so you were planning to stay in the city overnight."

His mother snapped her fingers. "Right! I'd almost forgotten." Then she groaned, her upper lip curling in disgust. "Ugh. I can't believe I must be amicable with your father all evening. I deserve an Oscar for the performance I have to put on around that man." She sighed. "Yes, Eugene, you may have your little party. You know which cleanup services to call if things get out of hand. Now leave. I need to finish getting ready."

Flash lingered in the doorway. He wanted her to ask _why. What for. What's this party about._

But she didn't.

She never did.

She'd remember his birthday after the fact, of course. So would his father. She'd make up some story about his gift getting delayed in the mail because really, Amazon was terribly unreliable, wasn't it? Or she'd hide money in his room later that week and then chastise him for not finding it on his actual birthday.

It was the same thing every damn year.

And even though Flash knew it would only make him more miserable, he couldn't help but think about what Peter Parker's birthdays were like.

His aunt would be there. Leeds and Jones, too. Hell, Tony Stark would probably attend, and they'd all give Parker expensive gifts. Expensive not because they cost millions, in the case of Stark. Expensive because they'd taken the time and the effort to choose a gift they knew he'd like.

Flash fell backwards onto his bed, wiping stray tears from his eyes.

Fuck. Sometimes it just wasn't fair, was it?

xXxXxXx

Flash hated being onstage. He hated the idea of success and victory riding solely on his shoulders. Of course, that meant Parker thrived under those kinds of conditions, right? Because Parker was great at anything and everything! The universe just wanted to rub his perfection in further, stinging worse than salt in an open wound.

They were at the National Decathlon Semi-Finals. If they won, they'd be a shoo-in for the Finals and would get a bye week while the Wild Card round was happening. If they got second, they'd be guaranteed a spot _in_ that Wild Card round.

They'd made it to the top two of the Semi-Finals. MJ had very pointedly let them know beforehand that she expected and would accept nothing less than a first place win. Seemed a bit unfair, in his opinion, but he didn't dare argue with Jones.

Parker, of course, was on fire, buzzing in and answering every science-related question and probably 75% of the math ones before the other team even had a chance to blink. At least, that's what it seemed like to Flash. It pissed him off, but he couldn't complain. His desire for Midtown to win outweighed his hatred of Parker.

"What element has an atomic mass of 35.453?"

"Chlorine!"

"How many legs do spiders have, including legs with modifications?"

"12!"

"What are the names of Shakespeare's three 'problem plays'?"

" _All's Well That Ends Well_ , _Measure for Measure_ , and _Troilus and Cressida_."

Jones had actually answered that last one.

Flash, on the other hand, was yet to answer _any_ questions. He was filling in for Leeds, who'd called in sick that morning with the flu. It wasn't even that he didn't know any answers! He was just paralyzed under the blinding light of the stage and couldn't bring himself to press the buzzer even when he wanted to. And sometimes he _did_ want to, because sometimes he actually _knew_ the answer.

MJ glared at him each time the other school got a question right, as if he was somehow at fault for the other team's success. Surely he couldn't be expected to know everything about every subject.

Or maybe he could. Jones was more unreasonable as captain than Liz had ever been, in his opinion.

The competition was neck and neck. An hour had passed since the start, and even Parker was starting to falter, clearly doubting himself as the questions got harder. He didn't hit the buzzer as quickly as before.

"We are down to one question remaining," the announcer said, sounding way too cheerful for someone who'd spent her entire day asking teenagers about a bunch of useless trivia. "This question will be open discussion, and the team that answers it correctly wins! If neither team gets it, we will move on to our tiebreaker round."

"In other words, no chance of two winners," Flash heard MJ mutter. He still didn't know why she'd sat him next to her. Probably to supervise him. "We _have_ to get this question right. We've come too far to lose now."

No pressure.

"Okay. Final question." The announcer cleared her throat. "In what style did Michelangelo paint _The Last Judgement_ on the altar of the Sistine Chapel?"

Flash froze.

Holy _shit_ , he knew the answer. _He_ could give Midtown the win. Fuck, he didn't even give a damn about the glory! Jones was right - the team had worked too hard this year to fall behind so early in the competition.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to have to look at the audience as he spoke. He willed every speck of confidence and strength he'd ever had to the forefront of his mind, telling himself to get it together and just buzz in.

His thumb slammed down on the top of the button -

"Oh, wow!" the announcer said with a cheerful laugh that sounded incredibly fake. "Close timing! But Bellamy High, you buzzed in a half-second first! What is your answer?"

What the hell? Was this a joke? He'd been a _half-fucking-second_ too late?!

"High Renaissance," someone at the other school's table confidently said.

Flash's eyes widened. His heart leapt into his throat and he felt like he was going to throw up.

 _They were wrong_.

The announcer winced. "I am so sorry, but that is incorrect."

Holy shit, that meant -

"Midtown, you have thirty seconds to steal, starting now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Flash noticed MJ turned to Suzan, their team's history expert, and not-so-quietly hiss to her, "What's the answer? This is our chance!"

Suzan shook her head, and she looked close to tears under MJ's aggressive stare. "I - I don't know! I thought it was High Renaissance, too!"

"20 seconds, Midtown."

MJ cursed. "Then we'll just have to brace ourselves for the tiebreaker round. It'll be rough, but we can still win this."

Peter glanced at Suzan. "Are you _sure_ you don't know?"

"Honestly! I have no idea."

"10 seconds, Midtown."

The ghosts of confidence past, present, and future must have all taken pity on him, because there was no way Flash had just stood up and shouted, "Mannerism!" of his own free will. He'd never have the guts to do it.

But based on the way his entire team was staring at him with their jaws on the floor… Shit, maybe he had.

Parker was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Seemed like a distinct possibility. It'd be easier to explain than him voluntarily answering a Decathlon question _and_ getting it correct first try. Jones looked like she was ready to tear his head off - or both his heads, if Parker was correct. But he was sure, really sure, that mannerism was the answer -

"That is correct!" the announcer cheered, throwing her sheet of questions into the air. "Midtown is the winner and will progress straight into the Finals!"

All hell broke loose. Flash was startled to find himself swamped by a massive group hug of everyone on his team as they were screaming and cheering his name - Parker and Jones included. The next few minutes were a blur, with everyone congratulating everyone and shaking hands with the other team and Flash could have sworn he even heard Jones tell him that she would not be forgetting his interest in art and - Christ, there was so much going on it was impossible to take everything in.

He'd helped Midtown win. He'd _actually_ helped his team win! It had been terrifying and there was no way he would be able to eat anything anytime soon if he didn't want to throw it back up, but he'd _done_ it. And who knew? Maybe he'd be able to answer more questions in the future, too.

He felt… good.

Gradually the Midtown group said their goodbyes to one another and dispersed into the crowd, finding their parents, relatives, and friends who'd travelled to Houston to attend the tournament.

Flash knew his parents weren't there. For one, they'd told him that morning that they couldn't go, just before Ned had called in sick. But that wasn't unusual. They had told him his freshman year when he'd joined Decathlon that they wouldn't attend any tournament unless it was the Finals - _and_ he had to be guaranteed a seat at the table. These requirements had turned out to be mutually exclusive the past two years, and honestly, Decathlon was the one event he couldn't blame them for missing.

Which was why it was even more surprising to see his father walking across the room in his direction.

Part of Flash wanted to jump up in excitement and call his name because he couldn't _believe_ he was there holy crap,, but his father was even stricter about public appearances than his mother was. Instead, he forced himself to sit still, and tried not to seem too eager as his father approached him.

Of course, his excitement died on his lips the moment his father was close enough for him to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Flash desperately wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong before he'd even spoken to the man.

His father sighed, stopping in front of him. "One question, Eugene? _One_? And it was about the Renaissance?" The distaste with which he spoke made it sound like he was talking about the Black Death instead. "Expect to double down on your calculus and chemistry studies when you get home. We can't have Mr. Parker stealing all of your thunder, can we?"

Flash wanted to protest, wanted to insist that finally, for _once_ he didn't give a damn about Parker and what he did, but his father silenced him with a look before he could speak.

"Sit here and wait. I need to take this call."

Like a robot with no free will, Flash did exactly as instructed. Taking direction - something he struggled with in school but excelled in at home. How ironic.

As he waited, his attention was captured by none other than Peter Parker darting across the room and practically flinging himself into the arms of -

Tony Stark?

They weren't standing terribly far away, and Flash couldn't stop himself from watching their interaction unfold in front of him.

"Whoa there, kid!" Tony said with a laugh as he stumbled backwards from the sheer force of Peter's hug before immediately returning the embrace. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I didn't think you would make it!" Peter said, though his voice was muffled by the billionaire's suit. "Especially since May got called in on a shift last-minute and Ms. Potts was worried about a meeting you had today and Happy is sick and -"

"Are you kidding me?" Tony interrupted, breaking the hug and ruffling Peter's hair, his brown eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world, Mr. Parker. I made that very clear to Pepper, so she agreed to reschedule my meeting." He grinned at him. "And guess what what, kid? You _killed_ it up there! I swear, you answered some questions even _I_ didn't know the answers to."

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really?! Because I was totally freaking out at the end and I didn't want to disappoint anyone by getting something wrong -"

"Psh. Everyone gets nervous, Pete. Don't feel bad about that. You should be proud you kept answering questions even despite your nerves. _That_ takes guts. And, fantastic bonus, you got the questions correct, too."

Peter beamed at him. It was the happiest Flash had ever seen his classmate. "Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!"

He didn't protest as Tony pulled him into another hug. "No need to thank me, kid." He held Peter tighter. "God. I am so proud of you."

Flash felt his breath catch in his throat, and he had to look away before any more tears could well up in his eyes. He stared at his feet when Tony and Peter walked past him, Peter talking excitedly about this new ice cream place he couldn't wait to try while Tony chuckled in amusement.

It was stupid, Flash decided. No, he didn't know what 'it' was. But 'it' was still stupid.

(His jealousy? His hatred? His mother, his father?)

What hadn't been stupid, though, was answering that final question. That - That had been _brilliant_. And he was damn proud of himself.

He didn't need anyone else to tell him.

xXxXxXx

Flash hated the spotlight. He hated parties, unless they involved getting wasted with his friends. He hated having to be out with both of his parents at the same time. Needless to say, he also hated experiencing all three of these nightmares at once. Which was why he hated the stupid formal event he was currently attending with his parents at SI.

Weirdly, it was in the same giant room that the Q&A during his field trip had been in. He hadn't noticed at first - the room was so packed he could hardly make out any details of it. Not to mention he was keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He did not want to make any unnecessary eye contact with the uber-rich people here. Even so, something felt different… He just couldn't place a finger on what.

"Eugene, stand up straighter!" his mother hissed, poking his back. "I don't know why Tony Stark took such care to invite you to this, too, but you will not be embarrassing the Thompson name while you are here."

Flash bit back a sigh and did his best to stand taller without having to lift his head.

"Better," his father said with something akin to but not quite approval. "It seems your mother does sometimes know what she's talking about."

"Oh, shut it."

"Now now, there's no need for such hostility, dear."

Flash tuned out his parents' bickering, aware they could go on arguing for hours over nothing. Although they were kind of right - it _had_ been a weird and highly tense moment when an invitation to Tony Stark's annual SI Expo after-party had arrived in the mail with both his parents' names and his own on it. Especially because it read _Eugene 'Flash' Thompson_ , a nickname he knew his mother and father despised. Upon seeing the invitation, they'd practically cornered him and demanded to know what the hell he'd said to Tony Stark on his field trip.

It was kind of nice that they'd remembered he'd been on a field trip that month.

He lied, of course. He insisted all he'd done was introduce himself and nothing more.

They believed him, easily. They didn't know him well enough to know when he was telling the truth or not.

Flash brought his eyes up from the floor to briefly scan the group, looking to see if there was anyone he knew at the event. There was a girl he'd hung out with a few times before at some of his parents' parties. Piper, he was pretty sure her name was. Her dad was some famous movie star. They'd bonded over their hatred of the socialite scene.

But she was nowhere to be found. Just his luck.

Flash then figured out what was so different about the room. Last time he was there, the walls had been empty.

Now, they were covered in paintings. Paintings he recognized from the room where Tony Stark had practically ambushed him.

He liked the change.

"Well, if it isn't the guests of honor!"

Speak - er, _think_ of the devil and he shall appear, apparently.

"Mr. - Mr. Stark!" his mother stammered, placing her hand on Flash's shoulder and gripping it so tightly he thought her nails might rip through his button-down and pierce his skin. "It is truly an honor to be here."

Tony chuckled. "Please, Ms. Thompson. No need for formalities."

 _'Miss'?_

Time seemed to slow around Flash. How did Tony Stark know his mother was single? His parents had kept their divorce completely out of the public, supposedly for the sake of his childhood. They told him they wanted to raise him with as normal a family as possible. Hadn't happened, of course. But how did -

"I admire your room decor," his father said, interrupting Flash's thoughts. Huh. For him, that was laying the flattery on thick.

"Really?" Tony smiled at him. "Thank you. A good friend of mine told me a while back that there was no point keeping all these beautiful paintings locked up, and I finally got around to putting them on display for tonight."

Flash's heart skipped a beat. Tony glanced down at him and winked. His parents didn't seem to notice.

"Your friend was right," his father continued. "You have some exceptional pieces of artwork here."

Tony raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Is that so? Forgive me, Mr. Thompson, but I wouldn't have taken you as an art person."

Flash managed to disguise his laughter as coughing at the thought of his father standing beneath a painting and trying to admire it. What an image.

"Anyways," Tony continued, offering his parents a charming smile, "it has been lovely chatting with you, truly, but do you mind if I steal Flash for a bit?" Upon noticing their evident confusion, he added, "I'd like to introduce him to some of my interns. He deserves to be able to talk to people his age at a stuffy event like this."

His mother snapped back to reality before his father. "Of course!" she exclaimed, practically shoving him forward. " _Eugene_ would be delighted to accompany you."

Flash cringed at her use of his real name. Maybe he imagined it, but he was pretty sure he noticed Tony's shoulders stiffen at her comment, too, which… actually made him feel a bit better.

But if Tony did take offense to her correction, he said nothing about it. Instead, he merely smiled at her again before taking Flash by the arm and pulling him through the crowd away from his parents.

"Am I - Are you actually going to introduce me to your interns?" Flash found himself asking.

"Yes," Tony replied, "but not yet." He ended up stopping near one of the corners of the room, beneath a painting Flash recognized from the last time he was here: _Liberty Leading the People_. They stood for a moment, staring at the painting, with neither speaking.

Then Flash blurted out, "How did you know my parents were divorced?"

Tony glanced down at him. His glasses had the same blue tint as before. "I did my research," he finally said. "After our first meeting. I'll admit - they worked hard to keep that information hidden. Took FRIDAY a full five minutes to dig it up."

Flash didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult.

"Anyways," Tony continued, "this is not about your parents. I wanted to talk to _you_. So - how are your art studies going?"

Flash bit his lip. "Um. Right. Pretty good." He wasn't going to admit to Tony Stark that lately he'd given up on reading, including the art history factbook he'd bought the day after the field trip because he'd felt so inspired. The spaces between the letters had ended up being too small, and the words all looked like blobs. "Thanks."

Tony nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You know, I saw you at Peter's Decathlon competition. You did well."

Flash's stomach clenched at Parker's name. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Oh. Thank you."

"I'm serious. Not many people know _The Last Judgement_ is mannerist. It was impressive."

Flash didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded.

Tony sighed, starting at him a moment longer before returning his attention to the painting. "So. Dyslexia, huh?"

Flash stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No need to deny it, Mr. Thompson. I told you - I did my research. You were diagnosed with dyslexia at the late age of 14 because your parents kept delaying testing for it, correct?" He didn't wait for affirmation to continue. "Yet, since then, there has not been a single appointment scheduled for you with a counselor or a therapist to help you learn the ropes. High school has been hard for you, hasn't it?"

Flash knew his face had gone red up to the tips of his ears. That always happened when he was embarrassed. "Mr. Stark, I really don't know what you're talking about."

Tony snorted. "Wow. Same thing you said two minutes ago. That's the best you could come up with?" He shook his head. "Well… I hope you know that there's no shame in having dyslexia. Maybe your parents tell you otherwise, kid, but you shouldn't listen to them. They have sticks up their asses. I hate to be the one to have to tell you that, but _God_ are they all prim and proper. Can't believe you haven't suffocated yet from having to live with them."

Flash couldn't stop himself from snickering. "Yeah, they're insufferable."

There was a pause before Tony continued. "I have a friend who specializes in learning disorders. I would be happy to set up an appointment for you. Like I said, kid. You're smart and you shouldn't have to deal with this by yourself."

The tension in Flash's shoulders was starting to ease. "Would you tell my parents?"

"Not if you don't want me to, kid."

Flash hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I'd really appreciate that."

"Great," Tony said with a smile. "Her name is Dr. Leah Nguyen." He chuckled, a fond expression coming over his face. "You know, she actually helps Peter with his ADHD. Helped me for a while, too. I bet you and Peter could bond over your struggles with reading."

Parker's name caused Flash to stiffen up again. "Actually, you know, I think I'm good," he said through gritted teeth. "I can handle it on my own."

Tony took off his glasses and tucked them into his suit pocket. "Are you sure you don't want help?" He gave him a knowing look. "Or… does your refusal have something to do with Peter?"

"I'd - I'd rather not have to hang out with Park - Peter. Sir."

"Really? Why not?"

"It's - No reason. We just… Don't get along."

"'Don't get along'? Nothing else?"

God, Flash couldn't stand his pestering. "That's it. Sir."

"Well, you'll have to forgive me, Mr. Thompson, but I'm finding it hard to believe you."

"Fine!" Flash snapped, turning to glare at him. "It's because I hate him, okay?" His fist clenched and he had to resist the urge to rip _Liberty Leading the People_ off the wall. "He has - Parker has _everything_. I know he's lost a lot of shit, too, but he has no fucking clue just how much he _does_ have. I hate him. I do."

Shouting at Tony Stark while insulting his favorite intern was probably a bad idea. In fact, Flash would even go so far as to classify it a 'terrible' idea. But _damn_ was it cathartic.

"I see," Tony mused. He didn't sound as pissed as Flash had expected him to be. "Are you sure?"

Flash blinked. "What?"

"Are you sure you hate Peter?"

Flash started to respond that yes, of course he was sure, but his voice died in his throat under Tony Stark's cold, calculating gaze. "I…" He shook his head, trying to reassert himself. "Yes. Yes, I really hate Parker. He - He fucking pisses me off."

Was he suicidal, talking to Tony Stark like this? Undoubtedly.

Tony stared at him a moment longer. Then his gaze seemed to soften. "No. I don't think you hate him."

"I -"

"I'm detecting jealousy, yes. Envy, obviously. Definitely some resentment, too. But no hatred."

"How - How would you know what I feel?" Flash demanded. "You barely know me!"

Tony shrugged. "Sure. I don't know you." His gaze hardened again, and Flash flinched. "But kid, I _was_ you."

"You - what?"

"A dad with impossibly high expectations that never bothered to be around." Tony began ticking things off on his fingers. "A mother who, bless her heart, never seemed to have enough time. So much money and so few friends, no _real_ friends, to show for it. Smart as hell but with… inhibitions that made learning ten times harder than it was for most people. Not able to prove your own worth to anyone." He stared at Flash again. This time, the hardness in his eyes was gone. It had been replaced by… sadness. "I get it, kid. I do. And that's how I know you don't hate Peter." He gave him a cold, almost cruel, smile. "If you did, Thompson, I would've had you expelled from Midtown before you could blink."

Flash knew, somehow, that the man wasn't joking. Desperate to turn the conversation away from himself, he snapped, "How do you even know Park - Peter, anyways?" He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, at least a little bit, before continuing. "I mean, I saw the two of you at Semi-Finals. How he ran up and hugged you. Acted like you were his… dad." Saying the word made his heart ache.

If Tony was surprised by the subject change, he didn't show it. "Peter is going through a lot right now," he finally said. "Stuff no one else, not even May, can understand. I took him under my wing. Gave him the… internship. I just wanted to help him get through high school." He laughed, though there was no humor behind it. "If you had told me a year ago that he'd become the constant presence in my life that he is today, I would have called you crazy. I never, not even once, expected that I would start feeling like he was my k… Like he was part of my family." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But I don't regret it. I'm terrified I'll screw things up somehow, but I don't regret it. Never." He glanced down at him. "Is that what you wanted to know, Thompson?"

Flash tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, you did ask," Tony said with a chuckle. "But mostly because I know that you, Flash, are a good kid. You have deep-rooted insecurity issues and a painful inferiority complex, yeah. Sometimes you can be a huge, quote, 'dickwad'. But you are still a good kid. You love art and history, and I bet you love reading, too, it's just so difficult that you tell yourself you don't."

Flash wasn't sure how he felt about Tony Stark, of all people, being able to read him so easily. "Maybe."

"Mm, that sounded an awful lot like a 'yes' to me." Tony clapped him on the shoulder before putting his glasses back on. "I think that was a pretty good heart-to-heart. But I've kept you here long enough. Let me show you where the other teens are hanging out." He took him by the elbow and began steering through the crowd, though not back the direction they came.

Flash hesitated as he was being pulled along, but willed himself to ask the question that had been nagging him the entire time. "Why… Why did you bother introducing yourself to me during that field trip in the first place?"

Tony chuckled, still navigating their way through the crowd. "Let's just say that Peter's enemies are my enemies. Count yourself lucky that you did not make it onto that list."

Flash gulped. Right. "Thank you, sir."

They stopped in front of a table that several teenagers were indeed crowded around.

"Oh, before I forget." Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gray business card, offering it to Flash. "That has my personal email. Let me know if you want to set up a meeting with Dr. Nguyen. I'm sure the two of us can come up with a story that satisfies your parents, too."

Flash accepted the card, a genuine smile forming on his lips for the first time that evening. "Thanks."

Tony grinned at him. "My pleasure, kid." He clapped him on the shoulder again. "Keep up your studies, Mr. Thompson. Next time we see each other, I want you to tell me ten facts about Dadaism, alright?"

Flash laughed. "Yes sir. I think I can manage that."

Tony winked at him, then disappeared into the crowd. Flash watched the area where he'd been standing for a moment longer before turning around and bracing himself to have to mingle with strangers.

He came face to face with none other than Peter Parker.

"Flash?" Peter said, taking a surprised step back. "What are you doing here?"

Flash bit back a snarky 'what's it to you' remark, instead taking a deep breath before saying, "My parents and I were invited."

Peter nodded in understanding. "Oh, right." He offered him a tentative smile. "Sometimes I forget your family is big in technology."

Flash snorted. "Wish I could forget." He cleared his throat as he realized how awkward that could turn the conversation. "Anyways. Are you here because of your internship?" He figured he shouldn't bring up Tony Stark's admission to feeling like a parental figure to Parker. That'd be weird.

Peter laughed. "Yeah. Something like that."

As Flash stared at his classmate, a wave of guilt overwhelmed him. "I'm sorry I'm such a dick to you," he apologized, the words spilling out with an honesty that was unfamiliar to him. He'd never felt so vulnerable, and he really wasn't sure he liked it. But he kept going. "I know that's not enough to make up for anything, but I - I really am. Sorry. I really am sorry."

Shock was blatantly written all over Park - all over Peter's face. "Okay," he said slowly, suspicion evident in his eyes as he tried to read if Flash was telling the truth. "Thanks, I think."

There was a long pause. Flash had no idea how to break the silence.

Then Park - Peter gave him a genuine smile. "Hey, you were really impressive with your save at the Semi-Finals. I was bored afterwards and googled that fact about the Sistine Chapel, and it is _not_ common knowledge. I didn't know you knew so much about art."

Flash's face reddened at the compliment. "Oh - uh, thank you. It's kind of embarrassing."

"It's awesome is what it is." Peter grinned at him. "MJ is totally going to kill me for telling you this, but she's thinking about having you at the table for Nationals!"

Flash's eyes widened at the thought of both his parents attending a Decathlon competition and seeing him do well. "You're kidding."

"Nope! You just have to really show her at practice that you know as much about art and art history as she already thinks you do."

Flash was amazed at how easy talking to Park - talking to Peter was turning out to be. They danced around some topics, sure, like family and friends, and there were plenty of weird silences, but all in all, he couldn't deny that he'd actually li… he hadn't minded the conversation.

They weren't friends. Not by a long shot. But the nauseating envy he was so used to feeling? It was gone. And he hoped, really, truly hoped, that he'd never feel it again.

Flash Thompson hated parties. He hated being in the spotlight. He hated his parents' indifference towards him and their unrealistic expectations.

But maybe, just maybe, Flash Thompson did not hate Peter Parker.

(In fact, maybe he even li… No. No way. Not yet.)

xXxXxXx

 **My first thought when I finished this: lol what is a timeline?**

 **(Oops.)**

 **Anyways!**

 **You can't tell me Tony wouldn't unofficially adopt Flash, too, after finding out how neglectful the poor kid's parents are. Sorry, but you can't. Also, if you're disappointed that the story wasn't entirely based around the field trip, fear not! There is always a possibility that I'll write another field trip plotline in the future.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this fic! Yes, Flash has dyslexia and a crush on Spider-Man and loves art history because I said so (also because the art history stuff helped me review European history/art movements for my upcoming AP test, lol).**

 **As always, you are welcome to leave me a request, but there is no guarantee I'll be able to get to it anytime soon because, like I said, this collection's purpose is to forcefully drag me out of writer's block by my ear and thus it's not something I work on 24/7.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading! Stay safe!**


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